Dumbledore's Army
by Crookedhalo
Summary: Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have survived Voldemort's rise and fall, but not all things have remained intact. Four years, later, the friends recount the events leading up to Voldemort's demise, and face their old memories. (spoilers for OotP) Now Com
1. End of an Era: Harry's Story

****

Dumbledore's Army

End of an Era: Harry's Story

A/N: this fic is dedicated to Paul, who not only gave me the idea, and helped me to write the first chapter, but who inspires me and encourages me far too much J 

Harry was floating. Or possibly swimming. Cool, aqua water surrounded him as he moved forward.  
  
But this wasn't like the water that he'd experienced during his fourth year when he'd had to go into the lake to retrieve Ron.   
  
Unlike the lake water, this water was crystal clear, and easy to move through.   
  
There was also a conspicuous absence of grindylows and the very homely mer-creatures.   
  
In fact, there were no creatures, now that he thought of it.   
  
He continued his half-float, half-swim, seeming to know where he was going, his body on auto-pilot.   
  
And suddenly, he stopped where he was as he moved over a small hill, a bright light seeming to appear out of nowhere, dazzling him for a second.  
  
Until he focused on the thing he had come for.   
  
There it stood, in the middle of the dazzling white light, remaining dark, a thin veil draped over it.  
  
His stomach turned as he recognized it, as he realized where he had ended up.   
  
The archway. Faint whisperings rumbled from behind the veil, but he knew better than to get any closer.  
  
He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had come face to face with an archway such as this.   
  
His godfather's face still haunted him, every time he closed them.   
  
But when he opened his eyes, yet another face loomed in front of him.   
  
"Harry, I'm sorry, but this is the only way. You know what you must do," Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced his, gazing apologetically, but determinedly over his half moon glasses.  
  
And then, before he could stop him, or say anything, Dumbledore had turned and walked through the archway.   
  
"Dumbledore! No!!" Harry shouted after him as the scene changed   
rapidly.   
  
He was now in the center of the Forbidden Forest, the bright dazzling white light and the cool, aqua water replaced by a veil of darkness, tree branches jutting out ominously, a dark figure crouched on the ground, flashes of green light erupting around him.   
  
"Not so powerful without your wand, are you old man?" a horrible voice echoed, bouncing off the nearby trees, the only sound in the forest.   
  
"Your Order has fallen, and even the creatures you believe to have harmonized themselves with you and your school have deserted the forest. Even your favorite boy is not here to save you."  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
Harry's scar seared with pain as Dumbledore twitched from the curse.  
  
But he did not wake up, as per usual.   
  
The Occlumency lessons had been aimed to combat just such a situation. He had thrown himself into them, and yet the dreams had persisted.  
  
The only thing that was of small 'comfort' was that Dumbledore had assured him that Voldemort would not be able to get into his mind to control him, nor would he be able to make him see anything else.  
  
So, instead he saw that which was actually happening.  
  
"Had enough?"  
  
Dumbledore held his head high.   
  
"No," he answered strongly.  
  
"Crucio." Another searing pain in his scar, and Dumbledore was twitching on the ground again.  
  
"Harry, can you hear me?" he yelled.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found he could not. Instead, Voldemort spoke in his place.  
  
"He can, but don't think he will be coming to your rescue. He won't wake up until we're quite through."  
  
At those words, Harry attempted to thrash in bed, attempted to scream, willed himself to wake up.  
  
"Dumbledore, Dumbledore!" he tried to yell. "I'm here!"   
  
But no sound came out.  
  
"Harry, it is alright," Dumbledore said quietly between curses, as if he could hear him, even though Voldemort had plainly said he could not.  
  
But Voldemort could be lying... right?  
  
"Dumbledore, I don't know how to help you! Tell me how!" Harry shouted, a very panicky feeling rising within him as he struggled even harder.  
  
Inside his head, Voldemort's laughter echoed, growing louder and louder as the intensity of the pain in his scar seared.  
  
"Just remember, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice yet again. "I am not the one who needs to go on. Not anymore. You know what you must do..."   
  
His voice trailed off as another flash of green light hit his chest.   
  
Without hearing the words, or seeing Dumbledore faint, his eyes lifeless, staring up at the sky above the forest, Harry knew what had happened.   
  
"Dumbledore!" he shouted again, still desperately trying to wake up as his head seemed to split in two from the pain caused in his scar, and as he could feel tears stinging his eyes.  
  
"Whuzzat?" Ron's voice broke through the dream-induced confusion.

  
"What's the matter? What's going on?" Ron's voice became more urgent, and Harry had to pull himself out of the haze.  
  
He stared, wide-eyed, at his ginger-haired best friend.   
  
"Voldemort," he whispered.   
  
Ron managed not to flinch upon hearing that name, which would have made Harry proud under ordinary circumstances. "What?" he asked, likewise whispering.

  
"He's got Dumbledore."  
  
"C'mon, then," Ron said, grabbing his wand with one hand and Harry's   
sleeve with the other. "Let's go! Where?" he asked, without stopping   
on the way to the door.  
  
"No," Harry stood up sadly. "You don't understand. He's gotten to   
Dumbledore. Dumbledore's..." he trailed off, unable to say the words.   
  
No matter how many people he'd watched die, he had never imagined this   
could be possible.   
  
The only one He'd ever feared. The only one standing between the two   
and what must happen.   
  
Ron shook his head, silently denying Harry. "No, that's wrong,   
Dumbledore can't - it's a trick, He's playing another trick on your   
head Harry, Dumbledore can't be DEAD!" he said, his voice rising   
shrilly on the last.  
  
Absentmindedly pulling on the nearest robes, which just happened to be  
his graduation robes, Harry glanced at the clock, suddenly   
understanding.   
  
It was almost time for graduation. He couldn't say why, perhaps   
because of Dumbledore, but they needed to be there.   
  
And after, he would find Voldemort and finish it.   
  
He had to.   
  
Dumbledore had told him he knew what to do.   
  
And this was what he had to do.  
  
"Let's go," he said gruffly.  
  
Ron shook his head again, but it was clear he understood as well.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, Ron finally nodded at Harry. "Right," he   
said, stepping aside to let Harry lead the way.  
  
Harry stopped in front of Ron, gripping his shoulder for a moment.   
  
"Ron... thanks," he said clumsily, not bothering to elaborate on the   
thanks, as it was a joke in the face of seven years of loyal   
friendship, almost like brotherhood.   
  
"Oi, Harry. It's me," Ron replied nervously. What else could he say at this point?  
  
"Just keep your wand out," Harry muttered in response, leading Ron down the hall, his face grim as they headed towards the Great Hall, where the Commencement was to be held.   
  
Ron nodded and followed Harry down the tangle of staircases. The castle seemed quiet and still - and Harry was sure that wasn't just his imagination. Where were the ghosts? Why had all the portraits fallen silent?  
  
And when they reached the Great Hall, what would they find? That was the worst question, and the one Harry refused to answer in his mind.  
  
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" a small voice squeaked up at him.   
  
Harry looked down to see Dobby, the house elf, bobbing alongside them.   
  
"Harry, you is missing your graduation. Professor Dumbledore told me to make sure that you did not!" Dobby announced nervously.   
  
At the mention of Dumbledore's name, Harry's stomach turned angrily, and guiltily.   
  
"It's starting, Harry Potter, sir! It's starting now!" Dobby squeaked, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him towards the Great Hall.   
  
Harry had no time, nor did he have the heart to argue, so instead he allowed Dobby to lead him towards the Hall, his insides churning, trying to shake the fear of going into the hall full of students and parents and not finding Albus Dumbledore leading the ceremonies, as he had for decades.   
  
But maybe... maybe it was a trick again. Maybe he'd get there, and find Dumbledore, smiling down at them proudly.   
  
He quickened his step, praying for that.   
  
Once inside the hall, his heart sank. At Dumbledore's place stood Professor McGonagall, her face a mask of worry.   
  
She was the only member of the Order who was not, at the moment, in St. Mungo's sustaining severe injuries, or… worse.  
  
Again, Harry thought guiltily of what he must do.   
  
What he should have done already.   
  
He had to face Voldemort.   
  
Had to kill him.  
  
It was the only way to put an end to this.   
  
Professor McGonagall pretended not to take notice of them as they entered the hall late, to the stares of all the students and parents seated at the hundreds of folding chairs that had been set up in the hall.   
  
But Harry could tell from the slight, grave nod that she gave that she had, indeed noticed them, and that she was suspecting, if not certain of, the same thing they feared.   
  
"The end of an era is upon us," she continued, as if they had not interrupted her speech at all, as if whispers had not rushed through the hall.   
  
Harry sat down, surveying his fellow students, many of whom had silver chains glittering from their necks, disappearing into their robes.   
  
His own pendant felt smooth and cool against the thin t-shirt he wore underneath.   
  
Guardians, they'd called them. Hermione had figured out how to enchant the pendants. They would   
only work once, but they would recreate a shield charm, protecting the wearer from any curse that would come their way-giving those who wore them time to realize that they were being cursed, and prepare themselves to fight back.   
  
They had passed them out to everyone who would take one, which happened to be almost everyone in the school, save for the Slytherins, and the few who still refused to believe Voldemort was back, or that Harry was anything more than a raving lunatic.  
  
Harry caught Neville's, then Ginny's, then Hermione's eye, nodding slightly to each of them, not wanting them to, but knowing they needed to catch his meaning.   
  
Something was happening. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, what. But they'd talked about this. Planned for this.   
  
He had explained to them that he alone needed to face Voldemort.   
  
"But Harry, you can't!" Hermione's voice rang in his ears.   
  
But he had to.   
  
Even she'd come to understand that, eventually.   
  
"All of you sitting here before me today have proved yourself ready to move on. Ready for whatever you shall meet as you move from childhood to adulthood," Professor McGonagall continued, catching Harry's eyes, and then raising her goblet to him, to all of them.   
  
"And for this, I am proud to call myself your teacher. Proud to present the Class of 1999," she looked around, and Harry thought he could catch the slight bit of shakiness in her voice, but no one else seemed to notice.   
  
"Shall we continue, with the presenting of the diplomas?" She waved her wand over the table, and a stack of gleaming blue orbs appeared, each hovering just a few inches above the table.   
  
"Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall said loudly as Hannah Abbot stepped forward, her orb flying towards her and unfurling itself into a shining piece of parchment, with her name glowing brightly, underneath the Hogwarts crest.  
  
Harry watched as the diploma rolled itself up into the glowing orb and flew back into Hannah's hand. She turned to sit down, but just then, the Great Hall, which had been shining brightly with the sunlight coming from the enchanted ceiling, was plunged into darkness.   
  
Before he could register what had happened, Harry felt his insides turning to ice, and then heard screams.   
  
He stood up quickly, pointing his wand at the sides of the room, which were crowded with hooded figures, moving in on them ominously.   
  
"Expecto Patronum!" he hollered, as several voices all around the room did the same.   
  
The D.A. meetings had continued on after their fifth year, every term rowing in number. The 'Army' was ready - or at least, as ready as it could be.  
  
Harry turned as several silver figures appeared, all charging at the outer walls. But he ignored the figures, which lit up the room, eyes searching for him.  
  
"Stupefy!" Ron yelled, because the Dementors weren't the only ones they had to worry about. With a certain malicious glee, he watched Draco Malfoy just barely evade four hexes. His own target, a Death Eater who looked a good bit like Marcus Flint, collapsed in a heap just as the Great Hall became pure pandemonium.  
  
Hexes, curses and spells were flying in all directions. His stomach twisted into knots as a good third of the students went down in the first insane volley of magic. Most got up again, but many did not. And then he didn't have time to worry about it. There were too many Death Eaters, too many Dementors, and - God! - even a black-clad giant had appeared out of nowhere and was using a length of the Slytherin table as a club.  
  
"Stupefy!" Harry chimed in, pointing at another Death Eater, who toppled - not before setting the robes of a nearby Ravenclaw on fire.  
  
The plan, Harry thought desperately, stick to the Plan!  
  
The Plan - get Voldemort away from the mass of his followers so that Harry could have a chance, however slim, of taking him down.  
  
Harry looked nervously at Ron as many of the students fell. But he was still standing, as were the rest of the members of the inner circle of the D.A. - Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Dean and Luna. He again met each of their eyes and nodded. It was time to get Voldemort alone.   
  
At once, the others pointed their wands towards the Death Eaters at the entrance to the hall, clustered around the very person he needed to get at. 

A volley of curses flew back and forth as they defended themselves. But it wouldn't be enough.   
  
"Harry, we have to do something," Ron hissed urgently. "We have to do it now," he added, raising his voice slightly.  
  
"Do it," Harry hissed back, catching the eyes of the rest of the members in the Young Order and nodding. They all nodded back.   
  
"Do the spell," he hissed, trying to find Voldemort amidst the crowd, already moving around his friends, not wanting to leave them, but needing to finish it. To do what he had been foretold to do so many years ago.  
  
Ron tucked his wand away, clearly reluctant to do so. But they wouldn't need wands for this spell, according to Hermione. Still, Harry thought, his wand still out as he would not be participating, it seemed odd. Especially with the battle raging around them. The 'Inner Circle' formed a real circle, around which another circle of students - guards - cannon fodder - gathered, and locked hands. Then they began the chant they'd spent a month practicing. To his surprise, Harry felt the magic crackle through the room almost instantly. A few seconds later and it seemed to take over. Their mouths moved, but the voice spilling from their lips was like none he'd ever recognized. And it was just one voice. 

  
And then the spell was cast. Every Death Eater, every Dementor, all the enemies of the School in the Great Hall were suddenly knocked down, overwhelmed by the mass hex that shot golden bolts of light outward in all directions.   
  
All except one...

Harry didn't stop to be impressed by the spell, even though it had never worked this way in practice.   
  
In fact, it hadn't worked at all. Wouldn't, Hermione had informed them, unless there was absolute need for it.

  
"Get him!" Harry heard Ron shout even as he'd begun to run towards the one who was his destiny. 

  
"Hey, Voldemort," he said boldly, stepping towards the tall hooded figure. "It's time to stop hiding," he said boldly.   
  
"I am the one who is hiding? Who has been hiding for the last seventeen years?"   
  
Harry knew what was coming even before it happened, and ducked out of the way as green sparks flew towards him, punching a hole in the doorway that he had just gone through.   
  
A few seconds later, Voldemort burst through the doorway, wand out.   
  
"Expelliaramus!" Harry shouted, even as Voldemort aimed his wand at him and shouted "Crucio!"  
  
As they had before, the two wands emitted colored jets of light, hitting each other inbetween the two, and creating a golden cage around them.   
  
But this time, the cage carried them up and through the ceiling, punching a hole in it, and yet still carrying them further, until they had landed themselves on the all-too-familiar steps up to the headmaster's office.   
  
Voldemort looked around, a strange grin on his face as the wands began to vibrate.   
  
"So this was his office. It's unoccupied, you know. It won't be sealed properly until they've replaced the old fool."  
  
"Shut up!" Harry shouted as his wand grew so hot and so heavy, vibrating so violently that he was sure he would drop it.   
  
But he had held on longer than this before. And he would not drop his wand. He wouldn't let Dumbledore down.   
  
Concentrating even harder than before, the memory of Dumbledore fresh in his mind, he forced the stream of light back towards Voldemort's wand, seething with an anger that he had never attempted to harness.   
  
But even the anger would not be enough, he knew this.   
  
He had learned that not only could you not do an effective Cruciatius Curse without truly enjoying the pain it would cause, but that the same held true for Avada Kedavra.   
  
And he would not, could not turn himself into a monster. Could not feed off the death that it would cause, reveling in it with glee, as he needed to do to finish this.   
  
Even if it would save lives. He could not.   
  
He wouldn't betray the memory of those who'd died helping him to get to this point.   
  
The question was, how would he stop Voldemort?   
  
How could he kill him, when as soon as they released these wands, Voldemort would point his, and finish it before he could even come up with a plan.   
  
"Harry," came an all too familiar voice.   
  
Harry looked up sharply, at first thinking that he must be seeing   
things.   
  
And then, he remembered. This had happened the last time he had pitted his wand against Voldemort's.   
  
Albus Dumbledore smiled at him, in that way he did when he was certain Harry would be figuring something out, overcoming an obstacle.   
  
"You know what to do. What you need is very nearby. When I tell you to, let go. You know what to do."  
  
More figures appeared from the end of the wand, interlaced with echoes of screams that Harry knew could only come from Voldemort's other favorite curse: the Cruciatius.   
  
And then, the figures turned to him, and Dumbledore caught his eye and nodded.   
  
"Remember the Prophecy, Harry!" he shouted, and then they all turned on Voldemort, forcing him back.   
  
Harry, who hadn't been sure what to do until the moment Dumbledore had met his eyes, dropped his wand from the beam of light as soon as they turned on the Dark Lord, pointing it instead at the closed door of Dumbledore's office.   
  
"Accio sword!" he said clearly, and before Voldemort could fight off the ghosts of spells, the shadows of people whose lives he had ended, a sword, bedecked with glittering rubies had flown through Dumbledore's office door and straight into Harry's waiting hand.   
  
"Expelliaramus!" Harry hollered, pointing at the hunched figure as the silvery-gray ghosts disappeared.   
  
And before Voldemort could dive for his lost wand, Harry was upon him.   
  
"Not the same without your wand, are you?" he said angrily slashing the sword at Voldemort, moving in on him, preparing himself to fight off the man that had taken so many people from him, that had torn so many families apart.   
  
Dumbledore. Mr. Weasley. Sirius. His parents. Neville's parents...  
  
"Neither are you," Voldemort growled back, catching his sword with a dagger he had pulled from his cloaks, and then slashing at Harry's wand hand, causing him to drop his wand.  
  
Harry ignored the pain in his hand where he had been slashed, transferring the sword to his wand hand, despite the fact that it was throbbing where he had been sliced through.   
  
"You'll never stop me. Don't you understand?" Voldemort sneered, forcing Harry backwards, his dagger battling furiously against the sword. "If you kill me, I will return, ten times as strong. This is how it will be."  
  
"I believe you don't understand," Harry replied cooly, despite the fact that sweat was trickling down his brow, and he was struggling to get the upperhand. "You never did get to read the Prophecy, did you?"   
  
Voldemort's dagger fell back a little bit and he gaped at Harry in surprise.   
  
"You didn't either," he shot back.  
  
"No, I didn't. I heard it firsthand from someone who witnessed it," Harry replied with a small, grim smirk, moving forward and thrusting his sword into the only weak spot he could find.   
  
As the sword sank in, the man that had brought an end to so many lives faltered, falling back against the wall, and sinking to the ground, blood oozing from the place where the sword had impaled him.   
  
"Neither can live while the other survives," he whispered, staring at the body in shock, trying to tear his eyes away from the dripping blood and failing. 

"Harry? Harry!" Ron's voice cut through the hush that had fallen in the aftermath. "Harry?" the voice came again, even as Harry determined to ignore it.   
  
Unable to pretend his best friend wasn't there, Harry looked up at Ron, then pushed himself up using the sword. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked again. 

  
Harry gave Ron another look, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then just shook his head. "Goodbye. Tell Hermione - tell Ginny - goodbye, okay?" he asked.  
  
"What - wait!" Ron's voice came after him, even as Harry stepped aside and closed his eyes, somehow knowing that he would be able to do what had been impossible in Hogwarts under Dumbledore. 

A soft pop echoed in his ears as he disappeared from the only home he'd ever known. 


	2. Penance: Ron's Side

****

Dumbledore's Army

Penance

A pair of blue eyes peeked out under a once bright orange hat, now faded from years of faithful wearing. The brim of the hat bowed down to the table at which the wearer sat, hiding the face from view as a pair of laughing children-well, a boy and a girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen, ran past. 

For a second, just for a second, he had thought of those he'd once been inseparable with. 

And for a brief second, he'd been afraid that those he'd lost would recognize him. 

Ronald Weasley had never been one to hide. Especially not in the last four years, since his graduation, and the fall of Voldemort.

But some things were too painful even for the Ministry of Magic's top Auror to face. 

Well, ex-Auror. It was time to retire. 

He'd turned in his resignation shortly after being awarded the Order of Merlin, First class for bringing in the last of the Death Eaters, Lucius and Draco Malfoy. 

Four years he had been searching for them. 

It had been the only thing that had kept him going after he'd lost contact with the two best friends he'd ever had. 

His eyes continued to follow the children who were thankfully oblivious to the dark power that had risen and fallen just a few years ago. 

If he squinted, the boy's dark wild hair and scrawny figure bore an eerie resemblance to Harry. 

He sighed audibly as his mind took him back to the last few minutes with his best friend. 

*****

The battle had just 'ended.' They had managed to fight the Death Eaters back after they had recovered from the spell that the entire school had used, and those who hadn't been knocked out by some curse or another had suddenly stopped.

It had to do with Harry. With whatever was going on there.

Ron still shuddered at the memory of the fear he'd felt that night. Knowing what his best friend had to face, knowing that it could go either way, and feeling helpless to tip the scales for Harry, to do something to even the odds. 

As the last of the Death Eaters fell away, Ron turned and hurried out of the Great Hall, staggering up the stairway to Dumbledore's Office as best he could. One of his arms was flopping uselessly at his side, much like Harry's had after being 'treated' by Lockhart years and years ago. The other was tightly clutching his wand, tightly enough to stress the wood, but Ron didn't even notice. He didn't even notice that Hermione and Ginny and Neville were still below, covering him from the base of the stairs.  
  
"Harry? Harry!" he yelled, freezing for a moment when he saw the two still figures in Dumbledore's office. "Harry?" he repeated.  
  
Harry looked up at Ron, then pushed himself up using the sword. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked again. He was alive and okay - no, not okay.   
Definitely not okay.  
  
Harry gave Ron another look, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then just shook his head. "Goodbye. Tell Hermione - tell Ginny - goodbye, okay?" he asked.  
  
"What - wait!" Ron yelped, realizing too late what Harry had in mind. Dumbledore was dead and half the spells he'd put up around Hogwarts had died with him. Protective spells, including the ones that stopped people from disapparating -   
  
And with a pop, Harry was gone.  
  
Ron sank down, uncomfortably close to Voldemort's very dead body, and waited blankly for the others to come, waited for Harry to come back.

Waited for it all to have the happy ending it should have had.

*****

He supposed, from a certain viewpoint, the ending had been happy. They had lived. Not all of them, but those in the Inner Circle, the ones he considered family, had lived. 

They had defeated the Dark Wizard, and he had gone on to become an Auror, a much-respected position in the wizarding world. 

He had even excelled at it. 

But he had lost everything that had mattered to him. Had watched each of those he loved suffer great loss, and compared to that, the rest meant nothing. 

The fact that he had just caught the most notorious-not to mention elusive- former Death Eaters, and the only ones left alive and un-punished was a small consolation.

The fact that he had been interested-no, make that obsessed- with catching the pair for the last four years should have filled the hole in his life. He had achieved the only thing he'd worked this hard at. 

But, still, it was merely a small consolation.

His eyes moved over to the girl accompanying the Harry lookalike-who, really, on closer inspection, looked very little like Harry. 

The boy's female companion had long, blonde hair-straight and shiny. 

Nothing like Hermione's whatsoever.

But still, as it had too many times over the last four years, his mind turned to his other best friend. 

*****

"Shh, she's coming," he hissed desperately at Harry, and his wild-haired best friend quickly clamped his mouth shut, the look on his face clearly betraying the laughter he was biting back. 

Ron shot him a dirty look as Hermione appeared through the portrait hole. 

"You do realize that it's only two weeks away, mate?" Harry asked in an undertone as Hermione made a beeline for them, her homework planner and three books in hand.

Her planner was just like theirs, but did not have to admonish her not to procrastinate, as she never did. It just wasn't in her nature to put anything off-something that both exasperated him to no end and that he found irresistibly adorable.

"What's two weeks away?" Hermione asked absentmindedly, juggling the books as she attempted to settle down at the table. "The exams are next week. Or are you talking about the winter solstice? Because, remember, I'm enchanting the Guardian Amulets three days after the Winter Solstice, as the spell calls for. 

Ron stared at Hermione, his mouth hanging slightly open. How was it that he was so nervous at the very prospect of asking her, and she seemed to have no idea that Hogwarts was even having a Yule Ball this year?

"No, actually," Harry began, glancing sideways at Ron, who shot him a glare. But that wasn't enough to stop him. "Actually," Harry continued, pointedly avoiding Ron's eyes now, "We were discussing the Yule Ball. Ron's…" 

"Been asked by Susan Bones just now," Ron cut in. "And Harry's asked… my sister, oddly enough," he glared at Harry. Two could play at this game.

Of course, Harry and Ginny deciding to go to the ball together was old news already. 

Ron wasn't sure whether to be relieved that his sister was going on a date with his best friend, or angry that his best friend was going on a date with his sister.

Mostly, he wasn't angry, but it would distract Harry enough so that he wouldn't up and tell Hermione that he was considering asking her. 

In fact, he was already losing his nerve. Maybe he didn't have to go to the ball at all… Maybe she already had a date. 

Krum certainly would have asked her by this time, in fact.

He made a grimace at that thought. Viktor Krum had shown up at the school earlier in the year to take over Flying lessons for Madam Hooch, who had disappeared 'mysteriously' over the summer. No doubt this was part of Dumbledore's strategic placing of Order members at the school. It seemed that a few members of the Order had found reason to come to the school, whether it was for a job that had been 'created' or for other reasons. And so Krum was just one of the many who were, he assumed, there for their protection. 

And he'd been hanging around Hermione ever since. 

"Ron?" Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts. 

He looked up from his quill, which he had been crushing with his hand. Setting the quill down, he quickly hid his ink-stained hand and met her eyes. 

"What's that?" he asked quickly, trying to brush away the annoyance that he'd been feeling about Krum.

"I said good that Susan Bones doesn't seem to fit your definition of 'troll.'" Ron frowned, confused at the expression on Hermione's face, and the coldness in her voice. 

"But…" he began, opening his mouth to tell her that he had turned Susan down. 

But she had already pushed away from the table. 

"I just remembered, I have somewhere to be," she said, her expression unreadable. 

"But you just got here!" Ron protested, standing up, and trailing after her as she exited the common room.

"Hermione, wait," he said finally, catching her arm as they reached the hallway. 

She turned to face him, and again he attempted to read her expression, but again, as always, she was being confusing. "What is it, Ron?" she asked quietly.

He pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing that now he had to do it. Running a hand through his hair nervously, he stared at her for a second. 

"I… Well, I was just wondering… who are you going to the ball with?" 

She stared at him for a minute, eyes widening. 

Oh, now I've done it, he thought miserably. I've let her know that I want to ask her, and she wants to say no, but doesn't know how to let me down easy. 

He glanced down at the floor, wondering if there was any way he could bewitch it to swallow him whole.

"I'm not," Hermione's voice came at last. 

But that wasn't the answers he'd been expecting. His head snapped up in surprise. 

"You're… not-what?" he asked, frowning. 

"I'm not going. In case you've forgotten, I've agreed to bewitch all those amulets for the D.A. and anyone else who will take one. And the spell has to be done three days after the Winter Solstice. I'd actually thought you and Harry would be more keen to help. But at least Viktor's agreed to-"

"Vicky?" So that was why she couldn't go with him. He felt his face, and even the tips of his ears, heating up as he suddenly became very angry with himself for following her, and with her for not… well, for not clueing him in earlier that she wasn't interested. 

"Don't call him that, Ron," she said in her best 'Head Girl' voice. 

"But…" he started, only to be cut off by Hermione again. 

"And besides, at least he realizes that there are some things more important than balls and Susan Bones!" she yelled, and then turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway, leaving Ron staring after her, shaking his head in confusion. 

Harry's face appeared through the portrait hole, his expression one of sympathy.

"Why do I always shoot my bloody mouth off?" Ron asked angrily, squeezing past Harry. "And you… You encouraged me! Didn't you realize she'd rather spend the night with Vicky than me?" 

"Ron…" Harry began, but Ron had already stormed up the boys' stairs. 

Ron spent most of the next two weeks avoiding Harry, as well as avoiding Susan, who was trying to spend time with him now that he'd accepted her offer. 

Well, he couldn't bloody well have told her no, could he? Then Hermione would think he'd been lying about being asked. Not to mention that if she was going to have a date, he was.

Even if deep down, he felt guilty for not being there to help her with the amulets. 

But he wouldn't have been able to stomach Viktor's longing looks or his insistence on garbling her name. He couldn't even pronounce her name correctly! How could she like him?

In the present, Ron grimaced, remembering his own thickness. If only he'd known…

"You're not going to dance, are you?" 

"What?" he looked up from the window that he'd parked himself at in the Great Hall, staring as if he could see through the trees to Hermione and Viktor and whatever they were doing.  
  
"I was afraid of that. You'd dance if she was here," Susan continued. 

"She who… what?" Ron asked, trying to hide the guilty blush that was creeping up his face.

"Hermione Granger. It's obvious, you know. Everyone in the DA has noticed it." Susan stood up, her face an unreadable mask. "Look… you should have just said that you didn't want to come with me."

"I…" Ron began in feeble protest. 

"Never mind. Ernie Macmillan seems to be without a dance partner. I'll go keep him company. If I was you, I'd stop torturing myself and go find her," Susan said, turning on her heel and heading across the Great Hall.

Ron watched her, shaking his head. 

"You don't have very good luck with these things, you know," a voice spoke up, infiltrating his thoughts. 

His head snapped up so quickly that he felt as though it may come off. He did his best to keep his jaw from dropping as his eyes met with a pair of brown eyes. 

"Hermione? Wha… Wait a minute, you said you weren't coming," he began hotly, taking in the dress and the hair and the carefully applied make-up… since when did Hermione wear make-up?

The last time she had, it'd been for that git, he thought angrily. 

"Yeah, well, I wasn't. In fact, I can't stay long. Viktor's covering for me with the enchantments. But I had to…" her face darkened, changing to that look she got whenever he insulted 'SPEW.' "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go with me?" she finally spat out, frustrated. "Instead of going on about Susan Bones…" 

"I… wait… what?" Ron stammered, blushing furiously as she confronted him with the only thing he'd hoped they would never have to talk about.

It was bad enough that he had to have feelings for her when she was so obviously uninterested, but now… what-was she _trying _to humiliate him? 

"Ron," Hermione's voice became more insistent, and more annoyed. "Harry told me," she admitted. 

"Harry… told… you…" Ron began, already picturing all the ways with which he were going to get back at Harry. 

Hermione glanced down at her dress, and then met his eyes. "It took me three hours to get ready. Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

His jaw really did drop this time. He promptly closed it, eyes searching her face for some explanation. She merely smiled encouragingly at him.   
  
A grin slowly spread across his face as he realized what she was getting at. He stood up and took her hand.   
  
"And I supposed you'd hex me if I didn't," he said softly. 

It was Hermione's turn to blush as he began to lead her out onto the dance floor. "Maybe," she said quietly. 

"Well then, will you dance with me, Hermione Granger?" 

"Yes," she said with a small, relieved laugh, putting her arms around him and leaning into him as they began to sway to a slower tune. 

They dance to the next three or four songs-he wasn't sure how many, just that she was there and it was… nice. 

"Ron?" 

"Hm?"

She pulled away from him slightly, biting her lip. "I should probably get back. The most difficult portion needs to be performed at midnight, and it's almost…"

"I'll come with you." He said quickly.

She looked surprised, but shook her head. "No, it's all right, Ron. We can handle it. You should enjoy the rest of your night. Besides, I don't think it would be very nice of you to desert Susan."

Ron glanced over across the hall, where Susan was currently hanging onto Ernie, the two swaying in time to the music, then glanced back to Hermione, a bemused smile on his face. "I think Susan will be just fine. Besides, she left me. You saw that. Not to mention that I'm not going to leave you alone in the woods with Vick-Viktor." 

Hermione looked for a second as if she expected a row to start up, but then realized he was teasing. "Well… all right then," she said softly, taking his hand and leading him outside. 

As they reached the garden, which had again been transfigured into a twinkling display of rose bushes and fairy lights, Ron tugged gently at her hand.   
  
"Wait." 

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

A hand nervously went to smooth back his hair, and he fought the desire to lick his lips, which had gone very dry suddenly. 

"I… I'm glad you came." 

"Me too." 

And then she had come closer-or perhaps he had moved closer. To this day, he wasn't sure which. The only thing he was sure of was that it was much more than nice and he would have given anything to stay in that moment forever.

Especially given what came next. 

After a long moment, they broke apart reluctantly, still holding hands. 

"Well, we should…" Hermione began, peering up at him. 

"Yeah." Ron consented, trying to hide his disappointment as she led him towards the forest. "Are you sure it's a good idea to go in there?" he asked. The forest's inhabitants weren't exactly friendly, and had only grown more unfriendly given the events that had happened in the last few years. 

"We're only a short ways in, and I've drawn a circle of protection around the area. As long as we're inside that, we'll be fine." 

"Okay," Ron murmured, his voice automatically taking on a hush as they entered the forest. They weren't under her protection spell yet, and he wasn't keen to meet up with any of the beasts that he knew lived in there. 

"Wait," Hermione whispered, coming to a stop after they had been walking a few minutes. "Do you hear…" 

She trailed off as the gentle rustling that had caused her to stop suddenly grew very loud, and the sounds of trees and brush being pushed aside echoed through the forest.   
  
Ron's eyes fell on Viktor, who spotted them at the same time, his eyes widening as he too seemed to hear the sounds. 

"Tarantallegra!" a voice cried, and a jet of green light flew at Viktor.

"Viktor!" Hermione screamed, but the jet of light merely seemed to switch direction mid-air and the perpetrator of the hex began to wobble all over as his legs started to move of their own accord. 

"It worked," Hermione breathed, now squeezing Ron's hand so tight that he was sure she was going to crush it. 

"You mean there was a chance it wouldn't?" Ron squeaked, but already he was on the move towards Viktor and the safety of Hermione's protection spell. 

As they neared the circle of protection, Ron tried to pull Hermione closer, but Viktor's attackers had already heard them, and one of them swung towards her, aiming his wand at her.

"Filthy mudblood," the Death Eater murmured, raising his wand. "Avada…" For an instant, Ron had a spark of recognition as Lucius' Malfoy's face was lit by the green light from the wand. 

"Herm-o-ninny!" Viktor's voice was the last thing Ron heard as he was shoved out of the way, and a terrible green light filled the air. 

"Stupefy!" came Hermione's voice, and then there was silence, save for a few stifled cries. 

Ron sat up, still in shock from all that had happened. He blinked, focusing on the two figures on the grass, feeling a small flare of jealousy as he made out the lines of Hermione holding onto Viktor. 

And then it all clicked. 

"Merlin," he whispered, and was on his feet in a minute, peeling her off Viktor's body. "We need to go see Dumbledore," he whispered, wondering why she was shaking. And then, on second thought, wondering why he wasn't. "Come on, Herm," he whispered, leading her away. For her part, she didn't argue, didn't say anything really.

*****

In the present, Ronald Weasley swiped at a stray tear as he trained his mind to concentrate on the here and now again, as he reminded himself that the two children laughing and shrieking were not in danger, had no idea what it was like to live in a society where life was uncertain-where loved ones could disappear without any warning. 

Hermione had avoided him after what had happened with Viktor. He didn't blame her. When it came down to it, Viktor had given his life for her when he hadn't. He'd wondered on occasion if she wished that he'd been the one to sacrifice his life instead. Wondered if maybe that was the real reason she didn't seem to want to be around him anymore.

He tried to make up for it. After graduation, after Voldemort's defeat, he'd signed up to become an Auror. The only thing that had sustained him through the long months without contact from anyone had been the thought of finding Lucius Malfoy and bringing him to justice. 

The only thing he could think of to make up for what he'd let her lose that night. 

Of course, now he'd done that. And it didn't make up for it. She was nowhere to be found, and instead, he sat in Hogsmeade alone, with nothing left to work towards. 

  



	3. For Better or Worse: Ginny's Tale

****

Dumbledore's Army

For Better or for Worse

Red hair flapped in the wind as the young woman stood at the edge of Diagon Alley, watching as children ran back and forth, parents chasing after them, happy back-to-school chatter buzzing through the alley.   
  
She smiled sadly, remembering all too well her first trip to Diagon Alley. 

*****

"Can't I get a wand, too, mum?"

"Not this year, Ginny dear."

"But…" 

"Fred and George are going this year. And then, in two years, Ron will go. And then it will be your turn."

"After Ron?" 

"Yes, after Ron."

*****

"Nine and three-quarters! Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet." 

*****

"Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?" 

"Harry Potter!"

Her ears had perked up at that. Harry Potter? She'd been hearing about him for as long as she could remember. Even though mum had tried to keep things about 'he who must not be named' hushed around her, she'd still overheard the whispers, heard it all. 

And she'd wondered about the boy who'd lost his parents and saved the wizarding world. He must have been some sort of hero, to defeat he who must not be named as a baby!

"Oh, mum, can I go on the train and see him, mum oh please…" she begged. 

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo!"

She tuned the rest of the conversation out, annoyed with her mother. 

She hadn't wanted to goggle. She didn't goggle. 

She'd just wanted to see…

A few minutes later, they boarded the train, and she realized that she would be the only one left at home, the one left behind, and burst into tears. 

"Don't Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," Fred reassured her. 

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" George piped in. 

And then the train began to move, and she ran after it, half laughing, half crying, unaware that too soon it would be taking her to her destiny. To the place that would shape who she was to become, for better or worse. 

*****

Blood. On her hands. She looked down, confused. 

Where had she been for the last hour?

Roosters… something about roosters…

She went to the diary that she'd found mixed in with her things after that trip to Diagonally-the trip where she'd finally gotten her wand, and opened it up.

__

Tom, she wrote, _I don't know what's happening to me. I keep blacking out for long periods of time, and I've just blacked out and woken up with blood on my hands. Help me._

*****

__

Tom, I think it's me. People keep getting attacked, and I never remember where I am anymore, and oh Tom… what do I do?

*****

__

It's you. It's you! What have you done to me? Justin… what did you make me do to Justin?

*****

__

You. What did you tell Harry? Does he know?

He knows far too much. And I didn't have to tell him. He already knew. You don't want to get in trouble for this, do you?

No…

Well, then you know what you must do. Harry is the only one who knows. But soon, he'll tell your brother and Dumbledore, and, well, who knows what the consequences will be.

What are you saying?

You know what I'm saying.

No. Please don't. I can't hurt Harry.

You hurt Hermione. And Colin, Justin, and Nick, and that filthy cat. You killed the roosters. This will be easier than that. I know you didn't enjoy that. But this… all you have to do is let my pet-our pet-let him do what comes naturally.

No, please don't make me. No, you CAN'T make me.

He'll tell… and then they'll send you away. They may even send you to Azkaban, you know.

I can't. Not Harry… Not Harry. 

"It's all right. You don't have to." 

She tried to look up as suddenly, a voice spoke up, but everything seemed to be fading away. 

"No, I'll take care of Potter myself," the voice hissed as she felt herself being lifted up and carried away, the sounds of laughter dying out.

*****

Ginny shook her head, trying to dispel the memories. 

Of course, she couldn't. They were a part of who she was. On some level, Tom was with her even to this day. 

As was Harry, in a very different way.

She'd tried to move on from her crush on Harry. Had almost succeeded, between dating Michael Corner her fourth year, Dean Thomas her fifth year, and Justin Finch-Fletchley for the first part of her sixth year. 

So, it wasn't as if she spent her school days pining for him. 

Not pining.

But she had always had feelings for him.

And during her sixth year, it looked as if he might return those feelings. 

But that had been before everything else that happened during her sixth year. 

*****

"Thanks for sticking around, Ginny." He graced her with a small smile, and she fought back the urge to blush. 

It was silly, really. It was just Harry. 

Which, of course, was the exact reason she was feeling a bit on-edge at being alone with him. 

But she was meant to have gotten over him years ago, right? 

She'd certainly done her share of dating in the past two years, and, well, Harry remained Harry. Ron's best friend, the first boy she'd had a crush on, one of her good friends. 

"No problem, Harry," she said, smiling brightly at him as she helped him straighten up the cushions and put the books on defensive magic back into their proper places. 

"Ron would have stuck around, but I think he, erm… wanted to talk to Hermione."

"Oh," Ginny said knowingly. "So he's finally mustered up the courage to ask her then?"

Harry looked up at her in surprise. "He told you he was asking her to the Yule Ball?" he asked.

"No," Ginny said, laughing at the expression on his face. "But it's fairly obvious, isn't it? I mean, he's only been in love with her for the last seven years. And last time there was a Yule Ball, he spent the whole night sulking because she'd gone with someone else." 

Harry blinked. "And I suppose you fancy yourself an expert on what boys want, Virginia?" 

"Definitely not," she said, biting her lip as her the tips of her ears turned pink. "In fact, the whole bloody lot of you give me a headache. One minute you're making plans to go to a ball together, and the next you're snogging someone else…" she trailed off, blushing a deep crimson now. "Er. Never mind."

Harry froze, his hand over a book, but didn't look at her. "Justin was snogging someone else?" 

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Parvati Patil. Apparently they hit it off over one too many butterbeers at the Hog's Head." She shrugged, then frowned as she realized that Harry was still being very quiet. "Er. Harry. Do me a favor and don't mention this to Ron, all right?" she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'd welcome any excuse to get into a fight with Justin." 

"Right…" Harry's voice came out a bit strained, then he turned to Ginny, surveying her for a moment. "But I don't get it. I mean, Parvati's nice and all, but why would he want to snog her when he's got… er…" he looked down, and Ginny couldn't help but notice that his cheeks were rather pink. 

"When he's…" she asked, unconsciously taking a step towards him. 

"Er, well, I mean… no offense to Parvati, but she's a bit…" Harry trailed off, looking down at her, clearly flustered. 

"It's all right," she said with a shrug. "I suppose we didn't really have much in common. So, if he's happier with Parvati, then I think that's better," she said with a decisive nod, looking up and meeting his eyes. 

"Well, I still think he could have gone about it better. I mean… what a git… kissing someone else without even telling you that…"

"Harry," she interrupted him quickly, "it's really all right. I mean, at first I was upset, of course, but I've gotten over it." 

"Oh." 

"So, are you going to the ball?" she asked, wincing even as the question left her lips. She had been looking for a change of subject, but that wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind. 

"Me? Well, I suppose… I suppose Ron and Hermione will be…" he looked down at her. "Are you still going, Ginny?"

She shrugged slightly. "Well, I suppose so. Mum did save up some money so I could order dress robes, after all, and it would be a shame to miss it just because I don't have a date."

"Right." He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. "Well, if you wanted… I mean, I'd rather not be Ron and Hermione's third wheel, and, well, I mean, it wouldn't be so bad, if you wanted…"

"If I wanted what?" she asked, wondering why he seemed so uncomfortable suddenly.

"Erm," his cheeks turned a bit pink. "Would you like to go to the ball with me?" He asked and then looked away. "I mean, it's all right if you'd rather not," he started to say, but she put a hand on his and stopped him. 

"Harry, I'd love to," she said, still trying to contain the shock that he'd actually asked her. The part of her that would always be ten and chasing after the Hogwarts Express and the famous Harry Potter was literally shrieking with excitement. 

He looked up at her and grinned, and she realized that that was the first time she'd really seen him smile since the term had started. 

Actually, his smiles had been few and far between since the end of her fourth year. Since the Ministry of Magic… 

Something about seeing him smile when his smiles were so seldom moved her to wrap her arms around him, giving him a large squeeze. 

"Erm," he said, his posture stiffening awkwardly in her embrace, as she realized what she'd just done. 

But after a moment, his arms slipped around her and he gave her a small squeeze. She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the hug for the moment. 

It didn't take long for word to get around school that they were going to the ball together, something that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had a good giggle over. 

"Always knew you'd end up together," Lavender had told her, despite Ginny's insistences that they weren't 'together,' and that she shouldn't make such a big deal about things. 

"Good luck," Parvati, who clearly still hadn't quite gotten over Harry's ignoring her at the last Yule Ball, had told her on hearing the news. 

Not that Ginny really paid any attention to any of them. In fact, she usually cringed when Lavender or any of the other girls started to giggle and ask her what was between herself and Harry.

She continued to tell them the truth, as she knew it: "just friends." 

But were they?

The moments when she was really honest with herself, the answer was no. Her feelings went deeper than that. He'd been her first crush. Her first-and only-love. 

But for the sake of keeping things from being awkward, and for the sake of remaining the friend that he needed, she didn't think about that much. 

As she picked out forest green dress robes to match his eyes, and had Hermione help with the painstaking process of charming her hair so it looked just right, and even as she bit her lip nervously before going down to the common room to meet up with him, she didn't let herself think on it. 

No. She didn't think on it at all. 

Until she walked down the stairs from the girls' dormitory and he caught her eyes, and for just a second, he seemed to be staring. Seemed to like what he saw. 

__

Just friends. That's what he needs, she reminded herself as she took the arm he offered her and allowed him to lead her toward the portrait hole. 

Thinking back on that night, she always wondered if it would have been easier if she'd really believed the 'just friends' mantra. Easier if he hadn't broken through her resolve to keep with the strictly friendship policy. 

*****

They'd gotten their pumpkin juice and taken a table, watching the couples as they whirled around the dance floor, occasionally making comments at the more obvious of the couples. 

"Look who finally stopped being thick."

She jumped as Harry nudged her and then looked towards where he was pointing. 

"Hermione?" Ginny glanced at Harry, eyebrows raised. "I thought she wasn't coming."

Harry grinned sheepishly. 

"Finally decided to interfere in your friend's love lives, did you?" Ginny asked, her lips twitching as she attempted to hold in her laughter. 

To her surprise, Harry actually began to blush. 

She couldn't help but grin, struck by the thought that this was the second time she'd made him blush twice now in less than a month, and a strange desire to be the cause of it more often. 

After a moment, she realized she was staring and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, at least this should cut down on the rows, right?"

Harry laughed. 

"I don't know, Ginny," he told her. "Have you _seen _the way your parents fight?"

"Good point," she said, turning her attention back to Ron and Hermione. "That was really nice of you to help them get past themselves," she said, her expression more serious. "It's best not to leave things unsaid. With the way things are…" she trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was saying. "Erm," she said, turning her attention back to him, and hoping that he would steer the conversation back to more pleasant topics.

"Best not to leave things unsaid…" he repeated, staring at her. She shifted in her chair, wondering if she had something on her face. 

Not that the expression on his face was of that sort, but, well, why else would he be staring like that?

"You look really beautiful tonight, Ginny."

She blinked, and then lightly nudged him. 

"You don't have to say that just because you're my date, you know."

"I know," he said, still holding her gaze. "But… you just said we shouldn't leave things unsaid, and, well," his cheeks reddened for the second time that night, and he shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe we should get some more pumpkin juice," he suggested, despite the fact that they both had glasses that were half-filled. 

Ginny's face softened as she realized that he had meant what he said, and instead she stood up, taking his hand and starting to lead him out onto the dance floor. "Dance with me?" she asked quietly.

He followed, and there was a moment of awkwardness where they tried to figure out where there hands should go before his left hand finally rested on her hip, his right clasping hers as she put her left hand on his shoulder, leaning in a bit more closely than she'd planned. 

"Thank you," she whispered as they began to sway to the music.

"What?" he asked, his own voice hushed as well. 

"Er. For the compliment before. Thank you." 

He smiled down at her. 

"It was the truth," he said, leaning in towards her, his lips moving closer, leaving little doubt to the fact that he… he was actually going to kiss her. 

And suddenly he froze, looking around as if, for the first time, he'd realized exactly what he was doing. For the third time that night, he flushed. 

For a second, she wondered if he was going to take it all back. If he hadn't really realized that he'd been about to kiss her. 

And then he pulled away from her and grabbed her hand. 

"Would you mind if we took a walk?" he asked, looking at her with anxiety etched in his eyebrow, as if she might say no.

"All right," she agreed as his grip on her hand relaxed, his fingers intertwining with hers. She smiled as he led her outside, enjoying the feel of his hand in hers. 

Once outside, they walked towards the garden, where hedges in the shapes of reindeer twinkling with fairy lights had been set up. 

Before they reached the bushes, he stopped and turned to her, running a hand through his hair, which-she'd noticed-lacked it usual rumpled-ness. In fact, it looked as if Harry had taken some time to style his hair. Of course, as he ran his hand through it, whatever charm he'd used seemed to come a bit undone. 

She giggled as his hair started to return to its natural state.

"What?" he asked, looking at her with a slightly embarrassed look. 

"Your hair," she said, taking a step towards him and without thinking, ruffling it slightly. "You seem to have broken whatever charm you used." 

A look similar to that of a child caught nicking lollies crossed his face. 

"I, er… didn't use a charm in my hair." 

She laughed. "Harry, I'm a girl. We notice these things." Grinning, she ruffled his hair up even more. "But I happen to like your hair better like this," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

"Oh really?" he asked, his own eyes sparkling with mirth as he took a step towards her, reaching for her hair. 

"Don't you dare!" she shrieked, reaching up to bat his hand away. "Hermione will kill me," she continued as he yet again attempted to reach for her hair, and again she batted his hand away, only to find an attack from the other hand. 

She reached up to again fend off his hand, catching it in hers, locking their fingers together and lowering his hand as the other hand moved in for the attack. With her other hand, she again caught his hand and moved it to their sides, both hands slowing as she stared up at him, her laughter dying on her lips at the expression on his face. 

"Ginny, I…" he began as she unconsciously tilted her chin up towards his face. 

To this day, she couldn't remember who had instigated it, but suddenly, his lips were on hers, as he pulled her closer, giving her hands a squeeze before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and then putting his arms around her waist. 

The kiss lasted both a second and a lifetime, seeming to last forever, and yet over too soon.

It was ended abruptly at the sounds of stifled sobs.

They both pulled apart and looked at each other before looking across the yard, recognizing the pair crossing it to the castle. 

For a brief moment, Ginny figured that Ron and Hermione were just recovering from another row. 

But something about the way Ron was holding her, and the way she resembled a limp rag doll in his arms made her think differently.

Without a word, she and Harry broke contact and ran towards the pair, not catching up to them until they were halfway to Dumbledore's office. 

"Ron, Hermione," Harry said, finally falling into step with the pair.

Ginny caught up a second later, a bit out of breath as her legs weren't nearly as long as Harry's or Ron's-who was all but carrying Hermione now. 

"Hermione, what is it?" Ginny asked, before looking up at her brother. Her insides turned to stone at the stricken look on Ron's face. 

His freckles stood out even more than usual against skin that was paled. 

Harry seemed to know what was going on without pressing the matter further. 

Perhaps a side effect of being Ron's best friend for seven years. 

Or perhaps it was the 'saving people' experience kicking in, as if he just knew what this looked like, having seen it-and avoided it-before. 

But there was no avoiding it this time.

Death. That was what it looked like. 

That was what hung over Ron and Hermione. Over the entire school as they made their way towards Dumbledore's office. 

"Ginny, get Hermione back to the dorms." Harry's voice was so take-charge, so in control that she didn't even think of arguing with him.

"Come on," she said softly to Hermione, who let out a strangled sob before easing her grip on Ron and following Ginny. 

The trip to the dorms was filled with an eerie silence as Ginny tried to work out what had happened without disturbing Hermione even more. 

Once they'd reached the Common Room, Hermione's demeanor changed, and she began to pace.

"I do hope they get to Dumbledore in time. What if there are more?" Her eyes widened. "The amulets. They'll be done. We'll need to get them. They're crucial," she babbled. 

"Hermione," Ginny finally stood up, grabbing the girl's shoulders and forcing her to stand still and face her. "Stop babbling. Please." 

Hermione stared at her for a moment and then pulled out of her grip, looking down at the floor.

"Viktor," she whispered. 

"What?" Ginny asked, searching Hermione's face for clues as to what she was on about.

"Viktor," Hermione repeated, her voice barely audible. "He killed Viktor. No. He was trying to kill me. Viktor got in the way." And suddenly, her shoulders shuddered as a sob escaped her lips. "He knocked Ron out of the way. If he hadn't, Ron might have…" she trailed off, her eyes widening. "I didn't mean that. He gave his life for me, and I can't be…" she shook her head. 

Hearing enough, her own face streaked with silent tears by this time, Ginny wrapped her arms around her and, despite her petite frame, pulled the taller girl into a fierce hug. 

Ron and Harry didn't return until four in the morning. 

Not wanting to answer the questions of the returning ball-goers, Hermione had finally gone to bed, and despite Ginny's attempts to stay with her and comforted her, had finally all but shoved Ginny out of the room. 

And so she'd set up camp on the couch in the Common Room, fighting the urge to go to look for them as a million different scenarios filled her head, each ending in a flash of green light. 

__

"If he hadn't, Ron might have…" 

Hermione's words echoed through her head as she wondered if Ron and Harry were fool enough to go searching for the Death Eaters in the forest. 

As she thought of them out there, searching, just inviting her worst fears to come, a rash of anger flared up inside. 

__

Going without us? Send the girls back to the dormitories and then go off to face uncertain death. As if they're better off with two as opposed to four. It's bloody biased, it is. When they get back here…

Of course, when the portrait hole moved and Ron's face appeared, followed closely by Harry's, all thoughts of scolding them left her as she flung herself at Ron, wrapping her arms around him. 

He froze and then returned her hug after a beat. 

"Hermione?" he asked. 

"She went to bed," Ginny said quietly. "Ron, I…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'd better get some sleep. She's probably going to need me tomorrow." And with another small squeeze, he released Ginny and headed towards the boys' stairs. 

As her brother left, her eyes fell on Harry, who seemed to have been watching him. As she caught his eye, he shifted his gaze, pointedly avoiding making eye contact. 

She took a step towards him, about to wrap her arms around him with the same relief with which she'd hugged Ron when he held up a hand. 

"Don't." 

The coldness in his voice stopped her. She looked at him in shock, blinking a few times, attempting to hold back another wave of tears that was threatening to spill.

"What?" 

"I said, don't," he repeated, turning away from her. "Go to bed, Ginny." 

The anger that she had felt earlier flared up again. "Don't tell me to go to bed," she snapped at him. "I was worried about you. Both of you. And I'm worried about you now. And I…" she cut herself off, just short of saying _I need you._

"I'm most likely going to die within the next month. If I'm lucky, I'll get to be a murderer," Harry shot back, his voice raising as he responded to her anger. "And you know what? Whatever the outcome, the people I care about are more than likely going to get hurt," he continued, looking up and meeting her eyes. The anger in his sent a shiver down her spine as, for the very first time, she was actually apprehensive around Harry for a reason other than her crush on him. 

"Harry, I'm not worried about that," she began, but again he cut her off, taking a step towards her. Unconsciously, she took a step backwards, away from him. 

"This isn't about who's going with who to the ball, Ginny. It's not about who's snogging who. Don't you see? None of that matters! You spend all this time focusing on it. Even now, you think just because we kissed that suddenly everything's all right, and that's not true! It doesn't even matter, don't you see?"

His words were like a slap in the face. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she pulled herself up to her full height, a surge of anger flowing through her. 

"You're right, it doesn't matter," she snapped back. "In fact, it didn't even happen. I would never kiss such an insensitive wanker!" she yelled back. 

For a brief second, a wounded look crossed his face, and then the anger was back, and she was certain she had imagined the look. 

"And I would never kiss someone so caught up in frivolities, so I guess we're agreed!" he shouted back. 

"Yeah, I guess we are!" she hollered. 

There was a brief moment of silence before someone cleared their throat.

"Sorry, I was just… looking for Trevor," Neville said apologetically, standing there, his eyes widened in surprised as he shifted his gaze between the two of them. "Er. Is everything all right?"

"Just bloody peachy," Ginny snapped, moving towards the girls' dormitories. Her face softened at the combination of hurt and surprise that crossed Neville's face, but her legs were threatening to give out and she didn't have the energy to stand there and hold back her tears at the same time anymore. 

So, with a somewhat apologetic look to Neville, she turned and fled up the girls' stairs, throwing herself on her bed and beginning to sob-for Harry, for Viktor, for Hermione and Ron, for fear of what was to come. 

*****

Ginny sighed, pulling herself out of her reverie as she surveyed the alley, searching for a hint of bushy brown hair, despite the fact that she wasn't meant to meet Hermione for another hour.

Still, she would welcome the distraction.

She hadn't expected coming back to Diagon Alley to bring up so many painful memories.

Of course, why wouldn't it? 

Sometimes just watching Quidditch would bring back memories. Memories of watching Harry at his games, memories of all those meetings in the locker room as a team, with Harry as captain.

Memories of Viktor Krum, who'd given his life in place of her brother's. 

Hermione hadn't said it that night, and had refused to talk about it afterwards, but Ginny could see it in her eyes, and knew herself that if Krum hadn't been there, there was a good chance that…

She closed her eyes, not wanting to think on that. 

Opening again, she caught sight of a flash of red hair, clashing brilliantly with a hat that had once been bright orange, and still managed to clash despite years of fading.

"Now you're seeing things?" she murmured to herself. 

But no. She blinked. Still there.

As her legs carried her off the chair she had been perched on and across the Alley, moving of their own free will, the figure only became more visible. 

"Ron?" the name came out a cross between a laugh and an exclamation as she threw herself at her brother, wrapping her arms around him. "Ron!" she said again, happily, as he reluctantly returned her hug.

"Oi. Geroff, Ginny," he muttered after a minute, shoving her aside. But the small smile on his face told her that she was welcome, and so she took a seat at his table.

"Mum's missed you, you know," she informed him. 

It was an understatement, really. In the four years since Ron had become an auror and left home, Molly Weasley had shed many tears, and spent many hours awaiting owls that very rarely came-once, maybe twice a year-and never really informed them of much, usually consisting of a few hastily scribbled sentences. 

He ducked his head, looking a bit ashamed. "I know." 


	4. Letters: Hermione's Side

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! You all have no idea how much getting a new review makes my day, and inspires me to continue. So… thank you!_

Letters: Hermione's Side

_Dear Hermione,_

_How is everything with you? How are your summer holidays going so far? _

_I expect you're going mad with the break from teaching, eh? _

_Things here are all right. I've been quite busy with work, and, well, other things. These other things bring me to the reason for writing to you. _

_Mum and dad's fortieth anniversary is coming up and we've decided to throw a party._ _After all they've been… Well, let's just say it's well-deserved._

_I know that coming to our house is probably the last thing you want, but mum and dad have always been fond of you, and, well, it would mean the world to them to have you there. _

_I'll understand either way, but I do hope you decide to come._

_Either way, I'll be in Diagon Alley in a fortnight, to pick out their present and pick up some decorations and other supplies for the celebration. I know your summer flat is near there, and, well, I was hoping you'd maybe like to join me for lunch? _

_And if you would like to go to the party, mum's said that you're perfectly welcome to stay with us until the party, if you have nowhere else that you have to be, of course. _

_To be honest, I could actually use an extra female around the house. Mum's been going nuts with all the boys. She's not even supposed to worry about the party, but you know how mum is. Doesn't trust my brothers to do anything, and, well, when the entire family is involved, well, you know how she is. _

_I think having you around might help to keep us both a bit saner. _

_Not to mention that it would be nice to see you. We haven't had much time to get together lately._

_Well, at any rate, I hope to hear back from you soon._

_Love from,_

_Ginny_

*****

Hermione wasn't quite sure what had possessed her to accept Ginny's invitation, but two weeks later, she found herself sitting at one of the tables outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, waiting for Ginny. 

Ginny had been the only one from school that had really made an effort to keep in touch over the years. 

A surge of anger welled up in her as she thought of Ron and Harry, both of whom had left after graduation. 

Harry, of course, had disappeared immediately after the battle.

She hadn't even realized he was alive until Ginny had told her that Ron had seen him leave. 

She had been so angry with him. 

After what had happened with Viktor, after _everything_, he'd just left. Without saying goodbye.

Well, the closest he'd come to saying goodbye was to tell Ron to send them his regards. 

Just like that. 

After seven years of friendship. Friendship that she'd thought could stand up to any test that might be thrown its way. 

*****

"Ginny?" Hermione had had to track Ginny down after the battle. She'd refused to go to the hospital wing until everyone with more serious injuries had been tended to. Typical, Hermione had thought, a burst of annoyance surging through her. 

She'd found Ginny sitting by the lake, her hair disheveled and her face smudged with dirt, a series of large angry gashes running down her arm.

Ginny sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the lake, seemingly unaware of her injuries. 

"Ginny?" Hermione asked quietly, taking a seat next to the petite redhead, trying not to wince as she struggled to find a comfortable place for her left hand, which was bandaged, having caught a very nasty, and as yet unidentified curse. 

"He's really gone," Ginny's voice came quietly. 

For a brief moment, Hermione's insides turned to ice as she considered the fact that maybe Harry hadn't made it.

She had seen Ron briefly, but he had avoided eye contact and hurried out of the Hospital Wing as soon as Madam Pomfrey had announced that she was going to be all right and begun to work on her injuries. But, she'd assumed that if something had happened to Harry, he'd tell her. 

Even if they had been avoiding each other. 

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, her mouth suddenly very dry, the word barely making it past her lips.

"Harry," Ginny answered. "He's left. Which reminds me," she looked at Hermione. "Ron says that I'm to tell you goodbye for Harry."

"He… left?" Hermione asked, frowning, still trying to grasp the concept. 

"Yes," Ginny said with a short nod, her eyes shifting back to the lake. 

"Will he be back?" Hermione asked after a minute. 

"Doesn't look that way, does it?" Beside her, Ginny's posture went rigid and she bit her lip, but her voice remained even and controlled, almost eerily so. 

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said gently, putting an arm around Ron's little sister as a few tears made their way silently down her cheeks. 

But even as she shed the tears, she felt a large swell of anger towards Harry for just leaving like that. 

For leaving Ginny. For leaving his best friends. 

For not bothering to see beyond his own troubles, to see that other people had been affected by this too.

That other people needed him. 

*****

She would remain angry for a long time.

It was only much, much later that she began to allow herself to understand why he had left. 

It would take years for her to allow herself to think about the sight of Voldemort's broken body, to think about what Harry must have gone through to kill him. 

Over the years, she had tried to start letters to Harry, had tried to find the right wording. 

She, Hermione Granger, now a Professor of Charms, and author of several respected articles that had found their way into professional journals across the United Kingdom, and had even been published in a few international wizarding journals, could not find the words to write a simple letter to an old friend. 

With Ron, it was different. She had boxes full of unsent letters. 

He'd left a week after graduation. Ginny had begun to write her, keeping her updated. She'd known when Ron had graduated Auror training, and she'd heard whatever details-if any-were included in his very rare letters.

She'd heard about Mrs. Weasley's reaction to Ron's career choice as well. And to his lack of communication, save for the odd letter, never written with enough detail, and never often enough. 

More recently, she'd heard that Ron had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for finally bringing Lucius and Draco Malfoy to justice. 

She'd written him a ten page letter after hearing that, convinced that she knew the reason he'd spent the last four years tracking them down. 

The letter was now at the top of the ever-growing pile in the box under her bed.

In the end, her pride always got the best of her. 

Ron had left. One week after Harry had left. 

He had to have known she needed him. 

He should have known. 

"Vanilla?" Ginny's voice broke through her thoughts and Hermione's head snapped up almost guiltily. 

"Yes," she said quickly, forcing a smile in an attempt to hide her distraction. 

Ginny's brow furrowed and she looked as if she were about to ask, but then thought better of it, and instead turned and headed inside. 

She returned a few minutes later with Hermione's traditional two scoops of vanilla and her own violently coloured Every Flavour ice cream, modeled after Bertie Bott's famous beans. 

Hermione tried to hide a smile at Ginny's choice of flavour. Ginny always had been adventurous, but this? Well, it was certainly more adventurous than Hermione preferred to be.

Yes, vanilla suited her just fine.

"I'm glad you'll be coming home with me," Ginny said with a bright smile, and then averted her eyes to her ice cream.

For a brief second, Hermione got the feeling that Ginny was attempting to hide something. But then the girl looked up again, met her eyes and smiled, and Hermione realized she was probably being silly.

What could Ginny have to hide after all?

*****

"What do you mean, Ron's coming home with us? You just happened to run into him, and he just happened to agree to come home?" 

Ginny winced, and Hermione felt guilty for her reaction.

Her feelings aside, Ron _was_ Ginny's brother. And he had been gone for four years. 

What was Ginny expected to do? Not invite him?

And of course she'd be excited. 

When it came down to it, Hermione felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of seeing Ron as well. 

Even if she immediately stamped it down, reminding herself that she was still very hurt that he had left when she'd needed him the most. 

They met up with Ron outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. 

"Hi," he said, visibly uncomfortable as the two girls approached.

From his awkward stance, Hermione was more than certain that Ginny had neglected to tell him that she was coming along. 

"Hi," she replied, suddenly feeling the urge to turn and flee. 

What had she been thinking? 

Spending two weeks sleeping in the same house as Ron and Ron's family?

She had officially gone nutters. 

Totally and completely. 

"We may as well go now," Ginny finally broke through the tension-filled silence. "Just meet me in mum's kitchen, all right?" she asked, meeting both their eyes in turn. 

Hermione set her jaw, reminding herself that she was a Gryffindor, and that she could do this. 

She closed her eyes and concentrated.

Pop!

Pop! Pop!

Hermione opened her eyes and was greeted with a roar of sound. 

"Hermione!" Molly Weasley cried, throwing her arms around her. But the woman froze, and then released the embrace as she caught sight of the young man that had accompanied them. 

"Ronald," she whispered, taking a step towards him, reaching out to him, but looking as if she was afraid to touch him. As if she didn't quite believe he was real.

Ron, looking slightly embarrassed, but pleased to see his mother nodded. "It's me, mum," he said, bowing his head slightly, and for just an instant, Hermione was struck by how little he had changed since school. 

Smack! 

"Ow, what was that for?" Ron protested.

"Four years! And only five letters, if you could even call those one sentence postcards letters!" Molly's brown eyes flashed angrily. But then, just as suddenly as the anger had appeared, it was gone again, and she'd pulled Ron into a hug.

"Mum," his voice was muffled as he received a faceful of Weasley red hair. 

After the embrace had gone on long enough that both Hermione and Ginny were avoiding meeting each other's eyes, and trying to suppress giggles, Ron started to struggle.

"Geroff, mum," he protested.

"Oh fine," Mrs. Weasley said, releasing him. She stared at him for a second and then gave him another smack on the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" he protested.

"For not coming home straight away to show us your Order of Merlin, First Class," she said sharply. "And to remind you never to go away again."

"Oh mum," Ron said, attempting to sound annoyed, but from the way his face shone, it was clear that he was more than happy to be home, and even to be on the wrong side of a Molly Weasley scolding. 

And then, his blue eyes flickered over to Hermione's and he grinned at her. 

In that moment, as she stood there, sharing a grin with him, Hermione was struck by just how much he had changed since school. 

*****

"Tell us the one about the one-armed dark wizard again," George demanded, his laughter filling the cramped dining room. 

Fred and George had decided to stop in for dinner, and had dominated the dinner conversation, pumping Ron for details on his life as an auror. 

Not that Hermione had complained. She hadn't felt much like talking. 

Before dinner, she'd managed to avoid Ron by taking a walk in the Weasley's backyard, and she still hadn't decided just how she felt about being near him again. 

"All right," Ron complied jovially. 

As he began to retell the story for the second time that night, Hermione began to realize just how much of his life she had missed.

Just how far beyond being a part of his life she had become. 

Funny how the two people she'd always imagined would be around had been the first to abandon her. 

After… 

And then she just couldn't take it anymore. Without warning, she shoved her chair back from the table and turned and fled from the room. 

*****

"Hermione, what is it?" Ron asked, following her out of the dining room, concern written all over his face. 

She whirled on him, suddenly angry.

"You left!" her eyes flashed. "Just like that. After the war, after Harry, after… You never even wrote to me."

"Well I didn't see any bloody letters from you either," he shot back, his face turning the colour of his hair as he responded to her harsh tone. 

"Well, I would have written you if you'd written me first!" Hermione shot back.

"And I would have done the same, so clearly we're both too bull-headed for our own good," Ron replied.

"Well, you should have swallowed your pride for once, you know. You left me in case you don't remember."

"And you didn't really speak to me for months before I left!" An intense frustration filled his voice now.

"Ron, that's not fair," Hermione said, recoiling as if he'd slapped her. "You know…" she began, struggling for the words. 

"I know that you'd rather it had been me than him," he whispered, avoiding her eyes at all costs. "That I failed you when you needed me most."

She stared at him incredulously, the words not even registering at first. 

"What?" she asked hoarsely, trying to talk around the large lump that had formed in her throat. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough," he whispered. "I'm sorry he had to…"

"You're a fool," she muttered, tears now streaming down her cheeks as she shook her head. "An absolute fool."

Ron merely focused on the ground. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"No," she said, more gently, taking a step towards him. "You don't understand." She sighed, closing her eyes, her shoulders shaking as she tried to fight back sobs. She failed, and one escaped her lips. 

"Herm," his voice was gentle and before she knew what was happening, his arms were around her, and he was holding her as her body shook. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to be comforted as he gently stroked her hair.

She allowed him to hold her like this for quite some time before she trusted herself to speak.

"I felt guilty seeing you," she began quietly. She could feel him looking down at her, and was fairly certain that he was confused, but he remained silent for once, allowing her to go on. "After what happened… a part of me," her voice lowered until it was barely audible, "A part of me was glad that if it had to be one of you, it wasn't you," she admitted, letting out a little sniffle. "That's awful, I know. I mean, it's not that I'm glad he's dead. Whatever else, he was a good friend, and I'm very sorry, and I know that he…"

"Hey," Ron said gently, his hand cupping her chin and lifting it so she'd met his eyes. "It's okay, Herm. You can't help how you feel, right? And it's not awful. It's… human, I suppose. And you can't spend your time thinking about what you would prefer, because when it came down to it, you didn't have a choice." 

"None of us did," he added quietly. "And no amount of wishing or wanting or…"

"Spending four years of your life seeking revenge against his killers?" Hermione interjected gently. 

Ron gave her a small encouraging smile then. It wasn't the type of smile that spread to his eyes, nor was it a very happy smile. "Yeah," he agreed. 

"Is that why you left?" she asked quietly. "Because you thought I'd prefer it if it had been…" she trailed off, unable to say it.

"Yeah," he repeated, nodding slightly. 

"Oh Ron," she said, throwing her arms around him, even through her tears. 

Again his arms found their way around her and he just held her like that. 

"I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, it's all right now," he said huskily. 

"Ron," she said again, but before she knew it, her lips had found his, his arms pulling her closer as everything else seemed to stop mattering. 

*****

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked curiously, going over to take a seat next to Ron, automatically rubbing his back.

It had been a week and a half since they had first arrived at the Burrow and they had become nearly inseparable since then. 

At night, they always took strolls out as far as the Weasley's property went, always lying down on the grass together and watching the stars, talking about what everything they had missed in each other's lives and, well, getting to know each other again. 

And so, it was odd when, instead of going out for their nightly walk, she found Ron sitting on a bench in the backyard, chewing thoughtfully on the tip of a quill.

For a moment, she was forcefully reminded of his affinity for sugar quills. 

_"You suck on them in class, and just look like you're thinking what to write next."_

She smiled fondly at the memory. Of course, the smile gave way to a look of curiosity as she remembered that this was not class, and that it was rare to see Ron this intent on something he was writing. 

"Letter to Harry," he answered, looking up and meeting her gaze. "I thought…" he trailed off sheepishly. "It just feels wrong, you know? All of us here-you, me, Ginny, the twins, mum, dad, even Percy, Bill, and Charlie are making the journey. And no one's thought to invite Harry, you know? It just… feels wrong," he repeated.

"I know," Hermione said with a nod, increasing the pressure with which she rubbed his back somewhat, moving her hand in comforting circles. 

"Do you write to Harry often?" she asked after a moment of thoughtful silence. 

"Yes," Ron said with a small nod, looking at her nervously, as if expecting her to be angry.

She wasn't. She did feel a twinge of regret that he hadn't written to her in all this time, but Harry was his best friend. The two boys shared a bond that even Hermione couldn't quite be a part of. 

"Does he write back?" she asked after a moment.

"No." 

"Then how do you…" she trailed off, not wanting to give voice to the concerns she'd had in the years since Harry had gone missing.

"I just do." Ron answered, cutting off her thoughts. 

"And you're writing to invite him to come to your mum's party?" Hermione asked, not wanting to argue with Ron's determination, despite her own doubts. 

"Among other things." Ron replied with a small nod. He looked up and met Hermione's eyes. "I haven't written him since we've arrived here, and, well, a lot's happened since then." He smiled and took her hand, giving it a little squeeze. 

Hermione couldn't help but smile back, a warm sensation spreading through her. "A lot that's been worth writing about?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Ron said, giving her a lopsided smile, and leaning in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. He pulled away a second later, scribbled a bit more onto the parchment, and then stood up, holding out his arm. "Just give me a second to send this out, and then we can go on our walk." 

Hermione nodded, jumping in surprise as, within seconds, a large, handsome grey Owl appeared, resting on Ron's arm, and waiting patiently while he tied the letter to the owl's foot. 

"Take this to Harry," Ron whispered, giving the owl an affectionate rub, before holding out his arm and watching as the owl took flight, soaring high above the garden before disappearing into the distance. 

"Ready to go?" Ron asked, offering his arm to her with a charming grin. 

"Yes," Hermione answered, returning his smile and standing up to take his arm. "Do you think he'll come?" she asked as they began to head towards the woods at the edge of the grounds. 

"Maybe," Ron answered, then shrugged slightly. "Bit stupid to think that when, in four years, he's never answered a single letter, isn't it?"

"Not stupid," Hermione said gently as she led him away. 

Ron shrugged, but followed her wordlessly. 


	5. Bonds: Harry's Story Continued

Bonds: Harry's Story Continued  
  
He didn't know what he was doing there. As soon as he arrived outside the Weasley's front door, he was struck with a very strong desire to turn around disapparate right back to his cottage.  
  
What if Ron was wrong? What if his parents didn't want anything to do with him?  
  
He grimaced, realizing that it wasn't really Mr. and Mrs. Weasley he was worried about.  
  
Well, he was worried about their reactions as well, of course.  
  
But there was someone else that he was more than certain would want nothing to do with him.  
  
And really, he didn't blame her.  
  
He really wasn't certain what he'd been thinking. Ron's letter just. Well, hearing that Ron and Hermione had patched up their friendship after so many years of not speaking had given him hope.  
  
In a way, he'd even be jealous of the fact that Ron and Hermione were together at the Burrow, having fun, when he'd spent the last four years completely alone. That jealousy had reminded him of the summer before his fifth year, when he'd wanted nothing more than to be brought to where his friends were, and to be let in on it all.  
  
And before he'd known it, he'd been taking his wand out and apparating to the Burrow.  
  
In front of which he now stood, his mind reeling as he realized just how many reasons he shouldn't have broken his years of silence and done, well, what he'd just done.  
  
Just as he had made up his mind to head straight back, the door to the Burrow opened.  
  
"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice hit his ears, filled with. was that excitement?  
  
And before he really had time to attempt to decipher his mood, he found himself wrapped up in surprisingly strong arms, as Molly Weasley hugged him like, well, like a mother would hug her prodigal son.  
  
"What, he doesn't get a smack?" Ron's voice asked. Harry looked up to see his former best friend framed by the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. Despite the marked changes to Ron's appearance: if possible, he was even taller than when they'd left Hogwarts, his freckles had faded somewhat, replaced by a more even tanned appearance, complete with sunburned cheeks- but despite these changes, for just a second, Harry couldn't help but grin back and it was just like being in Hogwarts again.  
  
Just like before.  
  
And then, almost as quickly as the moment had come upon them, it passed, and Harry's smile faded, giving way to the haunted expression that had crept into his eyes over the years with each loss he'd experienced.  
  
"Glad you could come, Harry," Ron said, clapping a hand on his back as he followed-being all but dragged by Mrs. Weasley through the door.  
  
"Glad you invited me," Harry replied, truly meaning it, despite his reservations about the reunion.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang through the kitchen as his other best friend appeared, nearly bowling him over with an enthusiastic embrace.  
  
She pulled apart from him after a moment, and looked up at him.  
  
"Why didn't you write? I was so worried, you know. Nobody really knew where you'd gotten off to, and there were all sorts of rumours, including." she trailed off, her expression twisting to one of such concern, the lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she suddenly began to look much older than her twenty-one years.  
  
Harry felt a strong flash of guilt. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words never made it past his lips as someone else appeared in the entryway.  
  
"What's all this racket?" Ginny's voice rang through the room, warmth washing over him instantly. The only feeling he could think to compare it to was that of eating chocolate after an encounter with a dementor. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone, as her eyes fell upon him and her face fell. "Oh," she said in a barely audible voice.  
  
He stood there staring at her, willing his tongue to work, wanting anything to break the silence.  
  
"Hello, Ginny," he finally said, his voice shaking slightly.  
  
An unreadable expression flashed in her warm brown eyes. Was it anger? Hurt?  
  
"Hello," she said with a curt nod after a long moment of silence.  
  
After another few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she turned and mumbled something to her mother about going out to the gardens, fleeing the room, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all staring at him quizzically.  
  
"I. think I need to get some fresh air, if that's all right," he muttered, already moving towards the front door.  
  
Once outside, he leaned against the house, closing his eyes and sighing.  
  
*****  
  
"Harry?" Ginny approached him tentatively.  
  
He'd been sitting by the lake, trying not to think of the fast approaching final exams, graduation, and the battle that would almost certainly come any day now, and failing miserably.  
  
Since the ball, they'd avoided each other for the most part. There hadn't been much time to talk about things, as Krum's death had thrown the school into chaos, and all of Harry's remaining spare time had been devoted to the DA meetings that they were now having on a daily basis, as well as his studies, and his Occlumency lessons.  
  
Although, even if he had found the time, he doubted Ginny would have talked to him. They both seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to avoid each other.  
  
They weren't hostile, but the friendship he'd enjoyed before the ball seemed to have evaporated.  
  
And so, when she appeared by the lake that day, it had come as quite a surprise.  
  
Perhaps if he had been expecting it, he would have been better prepared.  
  
Although, that probably wasn't true.  
  
He hadn't been ready to hear what she had to say.  
  
*****  
  
He found her outside by the garden, knelt over a patch of squash, pulling at the plants almost angrily. He knew full well that there was a charm to do that.  
  
But she seemed to be taking her frustrations out on the vegetables.  
  
He watched her in silence for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to say something, trying to find his voice to just say her name.  
  
It couldn't be that hard, could it?  
  
"What are you doing here, Harry?" she finally asked, not looking up at him, still tugging violently at the squash.  
  
"I." he faltered , not really knowing how to answer that.  
  
Really, what business did he have coming back here, after all these years?  
  
Something about Ron's letter had pulled at loyalties he'd tried to shed long ago, had reminded him all too well how much he missed the people he'd left behind.  
  
And so, in a moment of temporary insanity, he'd sent a letter back telling Ron he'd be there and had quickly apparated to the Burrow without hesitation, without stopping to think.  
  
He frowned. "I'm not really sure," he admitted.  
  
"Well," she said, tearing another plant from the ground. "You would do well to be sure before you do things."  
  
"Ginny, I." he struggled for the words.  
  
"Just never mind," she snapped. "It doesn't matter," she added, her tone softening.  
  
His face fell at the hurt in her voice, and he again opened his mouth to say something.  
  
"Harry," she said, her voice coming out very tired, "Just please leave me alone, okay?"  
  
He nodded slightly, despite the fact that she couldn't see him nodding. "Sorry for bothering you."  
  
He thought he saw her head bow slightly in some sort of acknowledgement of what he'd said.  
  
Again the desire to say something-anything-sprang up in him, but, keeping her wishes in mind, he turned and started to head back towards the house.  
  
As he did, he could have sworn he heard her whisper "sorry."  
  
But when he turned to look at her, she remained the same as before, still hunched over the garden, purposefully ignoring his presence.  
  
With one last look, he turned and headed back to the Burrow, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
He opened the back door and entered the kitchen, freezing as he caught sight of his two best friends, their arms wrapped around each other, and attached at the lip, completely oblivious to his presence.  
  
He stared in shock for a minute, and then, silently, he turned and headed back out the door.  
  
*****  
  
"After what you said after the ball, I wouldn't even be here, but I." Ginny blinked, looking down, studying her hands. And for a moment-a brief moment- he'd been reminded of the timid little girl that had once been unable to speak in front of him when he'd first come to the Burrow.  
  
He fought the urge to take her hands, to lean in and kiss her as he had just a few months ago.  
  
But that had been before.  
  
Before he'd realized that innocent people would die if he let his guard drop for even a few minutes.  
  
He'd avoided Ginny after their row for more reasons than one.  
  
She'd caused him to drop his guard.  
  
He should have been out in the woods with Hermione, Ron, and Viktor. Maybe he could have.  
  
He just couldn't help thinking that maybe he could have done something if he hadn't been at the ball with Ginny.  
  
Or rather, more correctly, hadn't been outside the Great Hall, kissing Ginny. Ginny, who deserved better than someone who was set to murder or be murdered any day now.  
  
"I know you're going to survive this, and when you do, I just hope you know that there are people waiting on the other side for you. And I hope you know that I l-" she began, but he cut her off by standing up abruptly.  
  
"Ginny, I can't do this right now," he said quickly. At the look of hurt on her face, he felt a sharp pang, and almost. almost took it all back, letting her finish what she was about to say.  
  
Maybe he could even have said it back.  
  
He'd never said 'I love you' before. Oh, he was sure the Weasleys and Hermione did love him. But it had never been said.  
  
And, well, growing up with the Dursleys, love wasn't exactly something you learned to feel, let alone express.  
  
But, for a split second there, he'd been sure that the words would have just rolled right off his tongue, had he let them.  
  
"I just. have a lot of studying to do, for the final NEWTs, you know," he said, wincing apologetically, standing up, and reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze. He froze before touching her, knowing just how much harder that would make it to walk away. "I'll see you at the next DA meeting, okay?" he told her, before turning and hurrying back towards the castle.  
  
*****  
  
He didn't belong here.  
  
Sure, he was happy for Ron and Hermione.  
  
There had always been something between the two of them, for as long as he could remember.  
  
Not that either of them would have admitted it, in their stubbornness.  
  
He smiled, remembering the conversation he'd had to have with Hermione before the Yule Ball.  
  
She and Ron had been at each other's throats ever since the ball had been announced and he'd stupidly agreed to go with Susan Bones, ducking out of the opportunity to ask her at the last minute.  
  
Neither would admit to the reason for their sniping, despite the fact that all of Gryffindor tower, and perhaps most of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, if not Slytherin, were aware of the reason why.  
  
After one particularly nasty row, which he'd found himself stuck in the middle of, of course, he'd found her seething in the library, nearly ripping her astronomy text to shreds.  
  
"I don't think Madam Pince would encourage the defamation of a book in her library, even if it is your personal property," Harry said gently, taking a seat next to Hermione.  
  
"Go away, Harry," she muttered angrily.  
  
"No," he told her defiantly, standing his ground against her perfected Head Girl glare. The one that sent the naughtiest of students into a frenzy of repentance.  
  
"Well then I will," she said, standing up and throwing her books haphazardly into her bag, a stark contrast with the usual order of all of Hermione's things, especially her books.  
  
"No you will not," he said, standing with her, and meeting her eyes. He had faced down Voldemort five times. Hermione, although a force to be reckoned with when angry, wasn't about to get him to back down. "Now sit down."  
  
"I will not!" she shot back.  
  
"You will. My two best friends are arguing and putting me in the middle, when I've done nothing to either of them. For that matter, they're both too thick to realize that they've nothing to be angry about."  
  
"Did you hear what he said to me? I'm perfectly within my rights to be angry." Her eyes were flashing dangerously, but he knew her well enough to realize that her lower lip was trembling every so slightly, and that she was very near tears.  
  
"Yes, I heard. And I'm not saying what he said was right. But you said quite a few nasty things as well," Harry told her.  
  
"Well," she said, setting her jaw stubbornly, not about to admit she'd been wrong.  
  
"You know, for someone who was made Head Girl, you're about as thick as they come," he told her, shaking his head.  
  
"Excuse me?" she looked up and glared at him. "Harry James Potter, you've no right or reason to come here and insult me."  
  
"Hermione," he cut her off, suppressing a laugh. It really wasn't funny.  
  
Except for the fact that it sort of was. If one wasn't caught in the middle of one's two best friends, who were so in love with each other and so thick that they spent all their time sniping, and putting their mutual best friend right in the thick of things, each holding him responsible for what the other was doing.  
  
"Ron doesn't want to go to the Ball with Susan Bones."  
  
"Why are you telling me this? It's none of my business what he wants, nor does it have anything to do with his insults, or with you coming to the library and insulting my intelligence." She said, despite the fact that neither of them were convinced of the truth of that statement.  
  
"Hermione, he wanted to ask you. But you beat him to the punch by announcing you were going to be spending the night with Krum."  
  
She looked up at him, her mouth forming a little 'o' of shock.  
  
"But," she said, her face reddening with frustration. "It's not as if I'm interested in Viktor that way. And, well, if I don't make the amulets, who will?" They were now getting dirty looks from some nearby students, who seemed to have been attempting to study before Harry had come in and instigated a 'scene.'  
  
"I know, Hermione," he said gently, in an attempt to get her to lower her voice. "But Ron doesn't, don't you see?" he smiled slightly. "I think it's safe to say you're both a bit thick."  
  
"I." Hermione sat down, shaking her head. "Harry, are you sure about this?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Hermione, you're both my best friends. If I'm not sure, then I think we'd have to worry about my intelligence." He grimaced. "Although, once I get through with the NEWTs, I'm sure we will have to worry about that."  
  
"Harry, you're not unintelligent, you just don't apply yourself," Hermione said almost automatically, and then blinked. "And what exactly are you saying here, anyway?"  
  
Harry shook his head, sighing. "I think Ron's not the only one with the emotional range of a teaspoon here," he said, again fighting back a smile. "Just trust me when I say that he wanted to go to the ball with you. And only you. Everyone else realizes this, and, well, we all think that Gryffindor tower will be much more peaceful once you two see it as well."  
  
"Everyone?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"Everyone," Harry said with a small nod.  
  
She looked at him, as if searching for some hint of dishonesty on his part. Obviously not finding it, she turned back to her books.  
  
"I. have a lot of studying to do, Harry. But I'll see you at dinner, all right?"  
  
"All right," he said, with a nod, standing up to leave.  
  
He couldn't help but notice that, even as she retrieved her gigantic textbooks, a small smile was beginning to spread across her face.  
  
Grinning, he shook his head one last time before exiting the library.  
  
*****  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" a sharp voice broke through his thoughts.  
  
He looked up guiltily, wand in hand. For a moment, he was hit with the feeling of being on the wrong end of one of Mrs. Weasley's infamous reaming outs.  
  
But, of course, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley standing there, her eyes flashing dangerously, as she had never seemed to be able to yell at Harry, even when he'd been a partner in crime with her own sons, he got the worst of her temper.  
  
Instead, in Molly's place, was Ginny Weasley, looking furious, and very similar to her mother, in the midst of one of her scolding sessions.  
  
"I." he began, again looking down at his wand, and then looking back up guiltily. Of course, a second later, he was reminded that she had just brushed him off. "What's it to you?" he asked, a bit more coldly than he'd meant to.  
  
Her face fell, and for a moment she looked as if he'd slapped her, and again he was fought with the urge to take it all back. But before he could say anything, or apologize, her eyes flashed dangerously and her chin set with determination.  
  
"This isn't about me. In fact, it has nothing to do with me." If she hadn't been so angry, he would almost have thought that he detected a hint of wistfulness in the words. "Do you have any idea how excited my brother was when he received your letter?" she continued, making him look down at his wand again, feeling a sudden strong urge to hide it. Anything to make the scolding stop.  
  
Not that hiding his wand would do much good. She knew what he'd been intending to do.  
  
"And my mother!" she continued. "Did you even see her face when you arrived? Do you have any idea what it means to her? Not to mention what it will mean to dad, and what it means to Hermione, and, well, the rest of the family." She stopped, and for a moment he thought she was done, but she merely took a breath and continued. "Although, given the fact that you do still seem to have your eyesight in working order, and that you've not gone completely mental, I'm going to assume that you did see my mother's face, and that you are aware of this. In which case, you're about to leave the people that care about you without saying goodbye for yet another time. For no reason except that the only person you seem to care about is yourself."  
  
Harry blinked as she seemed to finally come to the end of it all, and stood there, her chest heaving from exertion.  
  
He suddenly felt very ashamed, and actually did put his wand away, focusing on the ground.  
  
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I just... walked in on Ron and Hermione, and thought."  
  
"Thought what? That-merlin forbid-they're actually happy! Oh no. The great Harry Potter doesn't want to be anywhere near happiness, now does he? Even in a time of peace, even when there's no reason to be anything but." she trailed off, gaping at him as if she herself hadn't expected to say all that.  
  
"No," he said quietly, her words stinging. And then suddenly, he felt a surge of annoyance. "Not that it's any of your business, but I felt as if I didn't really have a place here anymore," he shot back angrily. Who was she to assume anything about him?  
  
Just because he wasn't here with the Weasleys didn't mean that he hadn't been happy for the last four years.  
  
How self-centered was she to believe that this was the only place he might be happy? Maybe he had found other friends, another family that felt like his own.  
  
Of course. The worst of it was that she was right.  
  
It was the only place he'd really been happy, save for Hogwarts, which had always had Weasleys.  
  
And perhaps he had been spending the last four years avoiding happiness.  
  
He himself wasn't sure why. Except that he felt unworthy of them. He'd killed, in the most hideous way he could imagine. And she was right again, that it was peace time, and there was no excuse to be unhappy.  
  
And he was.  
  
He'd spent the last four years, hiding away, wallowing in his unhappiness, not wanting to spoil anyone else's peace with it.  
  
Especially not the Weasleys.  
  
Especially not Ginny.  
  
Ginny, who had already let out a noise of disgust, and told him to "do what you want," before turning on her heel and setting off down the path leading towards the woods at the edge of the yard.  
  
"Harry?" Ron's voice asked from the door. Harry looked up, guiltily, wondering how much Ron had heard.  
  
Hermione stood next to Ron, her mouth open slightly in surprise, and looking. was it guilty?  
  
"Harry, we didn't mean to make you feel as if you didn't have a place here anymore," Hermione said quietly.  
  
"Yeah," Ron chimed in, and Harry was struck with a surge of jealousy as the two seemed to be acting in synchronicity, sharing a bond that left him on the outside.  
  
"Just never mind," Harry muttered angrily, turning and starting to head in the opposite direction in which Ginny had gone.  
  
"No, I won't never mind," Ron said quickly, exchanging a look with Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see them having a silent conversation with their eyes. And then, he heard the door to the Burrow close, and footsteps on the path behind him.  
  
"Harry, wait up," Ron said, his long legs easily catching up to Harry.  
  
For a second, Harry was struck with the impulse to tell Ron to sod off, or to shove him away, or to just pull out his wand and apparate back to his cottage. But he did neither, instead setting his jaw and saying nothing, waiting for whatever Ron had to say next.  
  
He owed his friend that much. Not that that was why he'd stayed, he knew, even if he refused to admit it.  
  
Some bonds, despite how one attempted to sever them, were never quite broken. 


	6. Catch Me If You Can: Ron's Side Revisite...

Catch Me If You Can: Ron's Side Revisited

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Andrea, who transcribed bits of the books for me when I was stranded without them, and who is just generally awesome! I apologize for the wait and, well, I'm still not sure about this chapter. My muse has been lazy of late. _

"Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" Fred and George's voices filtered through the window of the train as Ron moved onto it nervously, feeling a bit lost. Being a Weasley, one would think he'd know some people. That at least he'd have his brothers to sit with. 

Right. Fred and George had informed him that until he proved himself "worthy of being related to us," he was to pretend as though the fact that they shared a last name was "merely a coincidence." And now they were talking about this Harry Potter with awe in their voices. Awe that he'd never heard before, and certainly not for someone younger. And not just anyone younger. Someone who was Ron's age. He moved through the train as he wondered, just for a second, what it would be like to be an only child. And not just any only child, but one who was so great that he couldn't be overshadowed, even if he did have five older brothers who were exceptional in one way or another. He also wondered what it would be like to receive that sort of respect from people Fred and George's age, and possibly even from people older than Fred and George. He mused that even Percy, who had been so full of himself ever since his prefect's badge arrived in the mail, might have his head turned by the boy who lived as well. 

Ron frowned as he moved his way through the train, every once in awhile looking through windows to see if there was anywhere to sit, and finding all the compartments full, or, at the very least, filled with people who he doubted would allow a first year to sit with them. Finally, he came to one that seemed to be empty. Or at least, it was empty, save for the black haired boy in the corner. He froze as he recognized the boy that had received Fred and George's awe, his eyes automatically flickering up to the hair that was slightly mussed, and possibly covering the famous scar. If Fred and George were being serious, that is. 

"Er," he said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full." 

The boy looked up and, much to Ron's surprise, looked relieved, and then shook his head. Ron breathed a small sigh of relief, having expected the other boy to say that he'd rather be seen with someone cooler or, well… someone other than Ronald Weasley. 

"Hey, Ron." 

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron, shifting awkwardly and attempting to disguise his discomfort, feeling a flash of annoyance at Fred.

"Harry," said George, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then." 

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. Again, Ron looked at his companion, still a bit in shock at how normal he seemed. He supposed he'd expected him to be bigheaded and stuck on himself. Or, well, anything besides… shy, was it?

"Are you really Harry Potter?" he finally blurted out, unable to contain the question any longer.

Harry nodded.

"Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," he admitted. "And have you really got - you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. 

"So that's where You-Know-Who-?" 

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron said eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a moment, and then forced himself to look away. 

*****

"Harry, you've been keeping something from us all summer. Don't you think we realize? You've refused to talk ever since you came back from the Dursley's!"

Harry refused to look at either of them. Ron frowned, speaking the words that he'd never expected to say. "I'm with Hermione, mate. If you can't tell your best friends, what's going on, who can you tell?"

"That's just it," Harry said, his voice dangerously quiet. Ron braced himself for another bout of hollering. He'd gotten used to Harry's temper by now but it was still never fun to be on the receiving end of a Harry temper tantrum. 

But if they helped, he'd let Harry holler at him all day long. 

"You're the last people I'd want to tell," Harry said, still very carefully avoiding their gaze. 

"And that's the first reason why you should be out with it now," Ron said in a very matter-of-fact voice. "Harry," he continued, his voice softening, "whatever it is, it can't be as bad as all that, can it?"

From the look Hermione gave him, he realized that perhaps he had spoken too soon. With Harry, it could always be worse. 

"Fine. I'll tell you. But you'll have to promise not to be overbearing," Harry shot a warning look at Hermione, "Or to make a big deal of it all," he met Ron's eyes. 

Ron bristled at that. As if he'd overreact to something! Who did Harry think he was dealing with? 

Harry focused on the wall, beginning to speak again. Ron exchanged a nervous look with Hermione, but remained quiet. "Last May, after…" Harry broke off, and Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Both had been avoiding the subject over the summer, giving him the space to bring it up whenever he felt ready. "After we went to the Ministry," Harry continued, his eyes clouding over, "Dumbledore told me about the prophecy that Voldemort was after." Ron bit his tongue to keep from reacting to the name. "It was about me," Harry continued. 

"About you? But, Harry…" Hermione began, but was cut off as Harry shook his head. 

"They weren't sure at first, but it said that he would mark me as his equal, and that I would be the one with the ability to vanquish him, and that I would have power that he doesn't know about." 

"I'm sorry, but mark you?" Hermione said, as Ron's eyes quickly traveled to Harry's scar. Wordlessly, he nudged her and pointed to the scar, surprised that she hadn't figured that out more quickly. She caught his eye and nodded, her eyes now fixed on Harry's scar. 

"I still don't understand, Harry," Hermione said. "Mark you for what?" 

Harry shrugged slightly. "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can survive while the other lives," he whispered.

"Neither can… is that what it said?" Hermione asked, her face screwing up with concern as the meaning dawned on her. Ron looked at her nervously, still not quite certain what was going on. "But Harry," she said, "Dumbledore can't actually expect you to face Voldemort."

"Why not?" Harry asked, turning on her, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I've done it before, haven't I? And that's what the prophecy says. No one else can do it. I'm not so sure I can, but…"

"Then we'll be right there with you," Hermione said. 

"You can't." 

"Why not?"

"You just can't, Hermione! What good would it do anyway? Are you telling me you want to watch as I either become a murder or get k-"

"Don't say it!" Hermione cut him off, her eyes frantic. 

Ron looked between the two, his face a mask of concern. "Both of you, stop it," he said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded when inwardly he was panicking. He turned to Harry. "Harry, you're going to win. It's not as though they make a prophecy about all the other people You-Know-Who's killed, right? And you're just… going to win. That's all." 

Harry opened his mouth, looking as though he were about to inform Ron that he was a stupid prat and that his certainty was misguided, to say the least. But instead his lips curved up into a small smile. "Thanks, Ron."

"At any rate, whatever happens, you know that we're here to help, right? Like it or not, we're a part of this. And like it or not, we're going to be right there with you whenever this happens." 

Harry opened his mouth, again looking as though he were about to argue, but was cut off by Hermione this time. 

"Don't say we can't. You dislike people telling you what you can't do, and so don't even think about doing that to us. Besides," she said, tossing her hair haughtily, "You've got no authority over us. In fact," she said, a small smile forming on her lips, "If anything, we've got authority over you. We are prefects, after all." 

Harry looked at her in surprise, staring for a moment. Ron mirrored his stare, the corners of his mouth turning upwards slightly as he again found himself surprised by the girl who had been his best friend for five years now. 

After a moment, Harry cleared his throat and glanced at Ron. "Ready for that Quidditch Practice yet? Whoever the new captain is is going to kill me if I don't bring you back to school in shape and ready for the season."

"Me? Out of shape?" Ron puffed up his chest in mock-indignation. "I've been practicing all summer, Harry Potter. Are you ready for me to give you a run for your money?"

"Maybe. If you can catch me to give me that run," Harry teased, ducking out of the room, Ron whooping and running after him, the Prophecy all but forgotten as thoughts of Voldemort and the war to come seemed suddenly very far away. 

*****

Unfortunately, playing Quidditch was one of the few times that the ever-growing war seemed far away. As the next two years wore on, they spent their time preparing for the battle that was sure to come, the DA meetings becoming more frequent as its numbers grew larger and the sense of safety, even at Hogwarts, grew less. 

But whenever things seemed to get to be too much, Ron always seemed to be able to distract Harry, whether it was with Quidditch or a well-timed game of Exploding Snap. 

As he rushed to catch up with Harry, he wondered if things were different now. 

"Harry, wait," he called, his legs, still longer than his best friend's, providing an advantage. For his part, Harry looked as though he would rather tell Ron to shove off than wait, but Ron was pretty sure he noticed his old friend's pace slowing down. 

"You know, Ginny's gotten better with her hexes. If you leave, there's no telling what sort of hex she'd mail to you," he said in an attempt to start the conversation. 

Harry merely shrugged. "I'm surprised she didn't already send me one." 

"You do know that she's not really mad, don't you, Harry?" 

"Funny. She could have fooled me with all the yelling, and with the whole telling me to leave her alone thing," Harry said, throwing his arms up in frustration. 

"Harry, there's one thing you need to understand about girls. They only get riled up when you mean something to them, you know?" Ron shook his head. "It sounds counterintuitive, but the angrier they get, the more they want you around."

Harry surprised him by looking up and laughing. "And I suppose you're the expert now?" he asked. 

Ron returned his laughter, for a second feeling as though nothing had really changed from the old times. "Hardly. But I have learned a thing or two from Hermione." He paused, frowning. "Look, about what you saw… I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. But just because…" he struggled for the words and then shook his head. "Nothing's changed," he said firmly. "We still want you around, and just because we're-you know, doesn't mean that things are going to be any different." 

"Ron, things have changed. Of course they're going to be different." Harry looked away. "And I just don't think I have a place here anymore." 

"Then where do you have a place?" Ron asked, stopping and stubbornly attempting to meet his friend's eyes.

Harry looked at him, obviously fumbling for words, and Ron decided to change his tact. 

"Look, Harry, Herm's nice and all, but… well, you know that temper of hers. Who am I supposed to talk to when she's not speaking to me? You know, on the days that end in Y? And have you seen her on a broomstick? My Quidditch game has definitely needed some work, you know. And you saw mum and dad. You know they love having you around. And Hermione, of course. And everyone else will be coming for the party soon, and they'll be happy to see you too. And, er, my sister will come around. She's stubborn, but just give her time, all right?" 

Harry paused, again at a loss for words. After a moment, he began to beam, his eyes gleaming with a look that Ron remembered all too well. "About Quidditch… reckon I can still beat you?"

"Beat me?" Ron asked, also beaming. "Ha! I'd like to see you try. Besides, I'll bet you're even more out of shape than I am. I have spent the last four years getting my exercise running after bad guys, you know. I could still give you a run for your money." 

Harry grinned. "Not if you can't catch me," he replied and then took off running. 

Laughing, Ron quickly followed after him. 


	7. The More Things Change: Ginny's Tale Red...

**Dumbledore's Army**

The More Things Change…

_A/N: Wow. I've been getting some extremely encouraging reviews! I've been without a computer for the last few weeks and it sucks because I've been wanting to write. Anyway, one more chapter to go now! And in one review I was asked the difference between killing with the Killing Curse and killing with a sword, which kind of inspired some of this, so… there you go __J__  And hm. I think this is the very first chapter without flashbacks! Huh. It's also, consequently, the chapter with the longest author's note. That said, on with the show!_

The hellos and hugs had died down and the entire party seemed to move as one onto the dance floor as Molly and Arthur shared their first dance.   
  
Ginny watched her parents, her face shining with pride as the rest of the couples began to join them.   
  
She made a face at Ron, who was currently leading Hermione out onto the floor, and then grinned as the tips of his ears turned bright red.   
  
Some things never changed, she thought to herself, her eyes scanning the room.   
  
They fell on the empty spot where Harry had been standing just seconds before and her smile faded.   
  
And some things had changed so much that you couldn't recognize them.

She made her way across the garden, disappearing into the rows of overgrown orchids-mum's engorgement charms had really worked wonders on them-most were taller than she was. She walked quite a ways before she found him.

The sunflowers finally gave way to the grassy clearing that they used for Quidditch practice usually. He sat cross legged on the ground, staring up into the cloudless sky. She followed his gaze, almost hearing the shouts of her brothers and Harry as they tossed around a Quidditch ball, the faintest ghosts of the boys five years ago nearly visible if one squinted just a bit.

 She hesitated, realizing for a second that she had no business coming here. Trying to remind herself that she was angry with him, and that he'd been the one to leave. That tonight was just another example of his leaving, and here she was following him.

Always following him.

As she watched him for a few minutes, stuck between her former self and the new Ginny, with the walls to protect her, she realized that she'd always been chasing him.

And no matter how much you fought, some things never changed.

Biting her lip, she went and took a seat next to him, saying nothing and instead following his gaze, the ghostly shouts of her brothers dying away as she realized that there was actually nothing there. Not now.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that he didn't turn his head, didn't flinch. Instead, he continued staring up at the sky.

"It was different than I thought it would be," he finally spoke after sitting there for what felt like hours of silence, losing the game of chicken that she had initiated.

Of course, Weasleys were known for their stubbornness and she could very easily have sat there in silence all night, despite the fact that she had been the one to seek him out. In fact, she continued to sit in silence. But this time, for a different reason. Harry needed to talk about this, and she was fairly certain he hadn't talked to anyone. Not even Ron. He wouldn't bring it up after so many years. Not now that they had easily fallen back into the pattern of playing Chess and Quidditch and laughing together.

And while that was good for Harry, he needed to talk about it, without interruption. So instead, she waited quietly for him to continue.

"I read a lot on the killing curse before the time came, you know. I knew I'd have to kill, and I wanted to at least know what it would feel like." He hesitated, and from the corner of her eye, she could see him wincing. Her hand inched towards his, but she stopped herself just in time. No interruptions. That was her excuse, but really the hesitation had more to do with self-preservation, if she was truly being honest.

Harry shook his head and she was certain she heard him swallowing. "I don't think the killing curse is like that, you know." He shook his head again. "I just… I was prepared to go through with it. A wave of the wand and he was gone, you know?" She couldn't help but look at him, noticing that he was biting down on his lip hard, and hunched over that way, he looked barely eleven, very much resembling the boy she had first seen in King's Cross-the one who had been so lost and unsure of himself. The one she had fallen in love with instantly because he was a hundred times better than the stories that had been told about him. Because he was human. She felt herself nodding slightly even though she wasn't sure if he was even seeing her now.

"I just realized shortly into the fight that when it came down to it, my wand would be useless," he continued quietly. "Dumbledore had told me once that brother wands couldn't do battle against each other, and he was right." Harry paused again, and she noted the barely visible motion of swallowing again. "All I could do was use my wand to get me what I needed, and then…" he trailed off, closing his eyes, his forehead screwing up painfully.

"I just didn't want to face anyone after that. I knew no one could understand what it was like. And I didn't want any of you to understand. Didn't want you to see what I'd become." For the first time, he looked over at her, meeting her eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

She stared at him, all of the angry things she'd thought of over the years to shout at him when he finally came crawling back, begging for forgiveness, evaporating.

Instead, she waved a hand and shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"But I do worry about it, Ginny," he said quietly, still holding her gaze. He stared at her for a moment and then tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "You're missing your parents' party."

She shrugged, looking away. "Everyone was dancing. I haven't been a big fan, since…" she bit down on her lip to cut herself off. "Well, you know," she muttered, picking idly at a blade of grass and praying for him to change the subject.

He fell silent for a few minutes and she wondered if she had ruined the tentative peace that had been formed until he suddenly stood up and held out his hand to her.

"Dance with me?"She hesitated, still refusing to allow herself to look at him. And then, avoiding his hand, she stood up on her own, meeting his eyes. She held his gaze stubbornly for a moment as he stared back at her, clearly a bit unsure as to what was coming next.

"You're a real prat, you know that, Harry Potter?"

His face fell and he looked down guiltily.

"I know. Er," he began after a moment's silence, "I'll leave you alone then," he said dejectedly, turning to go.

   
She froze and then reached out and took his hand, gently turning him around, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.   
  
"As long as you admit it, I can dance with you," she said with a small decisive nod.   
  
He stared at her for a moment as though she'd grown an extra head, and then a small smile formed on his face and he took a step towards her, awkwardly putting his arms around her and pulling her closer.   
  
She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, falling into the rhythm of swaying back and forth to the distant melody wafting towards them from the party.   
  
After a few minutes of that, however, her posture stiffened and she stopped. Harry stopped a second later, his hold on her loosening as she looked up at him.   
  
"You'd better not be thinking about leaving again," she told him sharply, meeting his eyes this time, her own fierce with the stubbornness that was a family trait.   
  
For his part, Harry looked a bit taken aback as he met her eyes.   
  
For one awful second she was sure he was going to push her away again. Going to call her frivolous and tell her there were more important things. Or perhaps say that he'd rather be anywhere but here.   
  
But instead, he bowed his head, his face moving ever closer.   
  
She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, returning the kiss without question, matching his sweet, tentative pace at first and keeping up as the intensity deepened.   
  
But as he stepped towards her, again wrapping his arms around her, she froze.   
  
Looking up quickly, she pushed him away and took a step back, unable to meet his eyes.   
  
"You would do well to be sure before you do things," she repeated, mimicing her own words from earlier.   
  
"I would," he agreed with a nod.   
  
She chanced a look at him, a surprised expression on her face.   
  
He met her eyes sheepishly, and then again took a step towards her.   
  
"I love you, Ginny," he said quietly. From the expression on his face just after, she mused that he was just as taken aback by the words as she was.   
  
She stared at him in shock for a moment before a small grin began on her face. After a few seconds, it had spread, until her entire face was consumed with beaming.   
  
"You really are a prat," she said, teasingly shoving him. But at the hurt expression on his face, she caught his hand and pulled him towards her, placing his hands on her hips and wrapping her own arms around his neck.   
  
"I love you too, Harry Potter," she said matter-of-factly, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his.

He laughed and again pulled her close, swaying to the faint strains of music that were filtering through the gigantic orchids.


	8. Full Circle: Hermione's Side Concluded

****

Dumbledore's Army

Full Circle: Hermione's Side Concluded

The cheery sounds of wizard carolers filled her ears as Hermione wandered through Diagon Alley, her arms filled to the brim with packages. But the witch wasn't feeling part of the cheer that spread through the alley, despite the fact that nearly every few steps she was stopped by some over-zealous wizard wishing to shake her hand, recognizing her picture from the cover of the Daily Prophet a few months back.

She tried to tell them that it hadn't been her doing, that it had been Harry's. But generally they stopped and then glossed over that part. For the truth was, everyone was in such a cheery mood because of Harry's sacrifices. And no one liked to think about what had become of the Boy Who Lived, who hadn't been seen since that fateful Leaving Feast when he'd defeated Voldemort.

Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully as she very carefully placed the final two packages in her bag, rearranging them so that they were on the bottom. Saving the best for last? Perhaps. But really, her sensible side had kicked in and decided that the packages for those she was sure would be at the feast should go at the top. Just in case… No. They would be there. They had to be. It was Christmas, after all. They were both prats, but neither of them was so selfish that they'd skip out on Christmas at the Weasleys when she was certain Mrs. Weasley had sent at least two reminders to each boy. And even they weren't that selfish. Right?

Right, she told herself, shifting the bag containing the parcels into on arm and pulling out her wand, closing her eyes and concentrating on the Weasley's home.

A few minutes later, she opened her eyes and found herself outside their door, the packages now perched precariously in one arm. She again shifted them, and then reached forward to knock on the door, half-expecting a very tall boy with flaming red hair to answer.

Well, the flaming red hair part was right.

"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked, throwing her arms around her friend. But Hermione had noticed the moment's disappointment. She certainly didn't take it personally, as she knew that it had been just as hard-if not harder-on Ginny as it had been on her. A flash of annoyance at the two stupid boys she'd cared for over the last eight years surged through her.

"Are those for us?" Ginny asked, still beaming, despite the fact that Hermione could see the sadness behind her eyes.

"Of course."

"Brilliant. You can put them in the living room," Ginny said, gesturing to Hermione to come in and then leading her towards the living room.

Hermione followed, setting the packages down and then hesitating, chewing on the next question.

"Is-is Ron coming?" she finally asked. Ginny looked at her and from the look on the other girl's face, Hermione immediately regretted asking.

"I don't know," Ginny said quietly, her own expression turning to one of pity. Hermione wondered which was worse-the look of pity directed at her, or the look of disappointment on her best girl friend's face.

"We heard from him a month back," Ginny offered after an uncomfortable silence. "Er, mum did. He's graduated from Auror training. It sounds like he did very well there-better than in school." She frowned and chewed on her lip a moment. "Of course, she didn't get any word from him until she sent a very well-worded howler." Ginny chuckled softly.

In spite of herself, Hermione laughed as well. Until the reality of the situation set in.

"He'll show," she heard herself promising Ginny. "It's Christmas. Even he's not that large of a git…" she trailed off, exchanging a look with Ginny as both girls seemed to think the same thing.

"What about Harry?" Hermione asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Ginny turned away and instantly she knew that had been the wrong question to ask.

"The Daily Prophet reported a sighting of him about a month back. Somewhere up on the coast in Scotland. Much further North than Hogwarts. Mum didn't have the heart to send him a howler. I would have, but it's a waste, isn't it?"

"I've tried to write to him too and haven't hard anything back. It's almost as if-" Hermione cut off as Ginny's shoulders twitched a bit, as if she were suppressing a sob. "He'll come around," she finished quietly.

"There's nothing to come around to," Ginny said, turning on Hermione, an angry glint in her eye. "It's not as though I'm waiting for him, you know. I gave up on that a long time ago." She chewed her lip, and then instantaneously, her expression changed. "Oi. Mum's outdone herself this year as far as the feast goes. She's been shopping for days and cooking since four this morning. I'm lucky she let me off helping to answer the door. I really think she's outdone even the Hogwarts feasts, you know. And after dinner, we're going to go caroling-Fred and George already have sweets in stock that will radically change our voices. So be sure you don't accept anything from them before we go out." she smiled again, this smile only slightly less forced. "I'm really glad you came Hermione," the words themselves at least were genuine.

"Me too," Hermione replied as Ginny turned to hurry back into the kitchen.

"And Hermione?" Ginny said, stopping and looking over to your shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Don't mention them to mum, okay? I think she's still holding out hope that they'll show up, but perhaps we can keep her mind off it."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I won't mention anything." Ginny flashed her a grateful smile and then disappeared in the direction of the kitchen as Hermione took a seat, alone with her thoughts.

"Charlie, wait up! It'll squirt you if you don't-" a voice called as Charlie Weasley dashed into the room, followed very closely by the thundering footsteps of Fred and George Weasley.

Charlie turned to face the twins, his face livid. "If you think I'm kissing one of you two-honestly, what were you thinking, testing these out here?"

"Oh, hello Hermione!" Fred piped in, and all three of the brothers turned to look at her.

Hermione surveyed the scene, her eyes falling on a sprig of mistletoe, floating above Charlie. The mistletoe twitched and Charlie looked up at it nervously and then back to Hermione, his eyes pleading. "Squirting Mistletoe. One of their inventions," he nodded towards the twins, a look of annoyance on his face. "Er, could you help me out here?"

Hermione shook her head and laughed, standing up. She took a step towards Charlie, eyeing the mistletoe nervously and then standing on her tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek.

The mistletoe huffed in disappointment and then soared away, clearly in search of its next victim.

"Mischievous Mistletoe," George announced proudly. "Our latest in the line of Holiday products, and our best seller this year. Of course, everyone's so full of Christmas cheer that they've bought out everything in keeping with the season."

"And you brought it to a family event. Really-didn't you stop to think that none of us would want to kiss you. And there are no girls here, you know!" Charlie threw a sideways glance to Hermione. "Except for you of course. No offense, I just don't think of you…"

"It's all right, Charlie," Hermione said with a smile. Leave it to the Weasley boys to provide a good distraction. Of course, it would help if they didn't all remind her of Ron, who had inherited traits from everyone in his family to some degree or another.

Of course, she had been the one to decide to spend Christmas eve with the Weasleys. Not that there were any question, though. She'd be seeing her parents for the holiday tomorrow, but how could anyone turn down an invitation to the Weasleys?

She frowned, thinking of the two who had most likely turned down that invitation.

"Oi, Hermione, did you hear that? You saved Charlie from being squirted with stink sap," Fred interjected, elbowing her as if he'd noticed the loss of cheer in her expression. "One of our more brilliant holiday inventions, if I do say so myself. Of course, they're all pretty brilliant."

Hermione laughed. "And modesty is your best quality," she teased.

Fred looked at her with mock-shock. "Hermione! I'm hurt! You mean to tell me you don't think we're brilliant?"

In spite of herself, Hermione was laughing again. "I do indeed," she teased. Fred opened his mouth to retort to that, but they were all interrupted by Molly Weasley's voice, announcing dinner.

She stopped at the door to the dining room as everyone took a seat, mentally counting the chairs. Two extra, beside the one that was clearly meant for her. She looked up and noticed Ginny staring at her. The two girls made eye contact and both gazes flickered over to Molly Weasley, who seemed determined to ignore the fact that the two chairs were empty, her smile warm and inviting but not quite believable.

Hermione took a seat quietly as everyone in the table burst into cheerful chatter, all clearly trying to keep the attention off the empty chairs.

And then, without warning, the doorbell rang. Everyone at the table fell silent as eight heads swiveled in the direction of the hallway leading to the front door.

"I'll get it," Mrs. Weasley finally said, the first to get over the shock. She sprang to her feet and hurried to the door, clearly expecting the two remaining members of the party.

"Oh!" came the surprised voice a few moments later, and then a loud sob of joy.

Hermione met Ginny's eyes quickly and then both girls bolted out of their chairs and to the hallway. Hermione stopped just a few feet away from the embracing pair, and Ginny hesitated as well, clearly fighting with her emotions.

And then, without warning, Ginny shrieked and launched herself at her older brother.

"Percy," she said through tears.

Percy, for his part, hugged Ginny back and then looked at his mother as the girl pulled away. "Hullo mum. I-er-had thought maybe…" he held out a bag, filled to the brim with parcels sheepishly. "I just picked up a few things in Diagonally. It's not much, and I'd understand if your table were full."

"Nonsense, Percy," Molly Weasley said, grabbing his arm and leading him down the hall. The two stopped just in front of the group of Weasley boys that had gathered, all looking expectantly down the hall, no doubt expecting, well, expecting the same two everyone had expected.

Fred was the first to speak. "Done being a prat, are you?" he asked coldly.

Percy hesitated, and Hermione, despite how angry she had been at Percy for turning his back on his family, felt a surge of pity for the older boy.

A moment later, Fred's face broke into a grin, and he clapped his hand to his older brother's shoulder. "C'mon, we saved you a few sweets."

And then Bill broke into laughter as the rest of the brothers swarmed around Percy, moving him into the dining room. "I wouldn't if I were you," Bill warned Percy, even as George shot him a dirty look.

Despite being heartened at the Weasleys' reaction to the return of one of their prodigal sons, Hermione felt herself feeling a twinge of disappointment. She noticed Mrs. Weasley's eyes travel to the two empty chairs, the woman clearly coming to a realization. "Here, we saved you a chair," she finally said, gesturing towards one of the two chairs.

Hermione had a seat, trying to keep her expression from being somber, as the Weasleys again took up a cheerful barrage of conversations-all competing for the loudest as they chattered away happily.

Later that night, after she had apparated home, she again looked through her bag, finding the two unopened packages. She sat down and began to write a letter to go along with one.

Three hours later, she was surrounded by crumpled pieces of parchment, none adequate to express how she was feeling.

And so instead, she reached for two new pieces of parchment and scribbled the same note on each:

__

Ron,

Happy Christmas. Missed you at dinner.

Love from,

Hermione

Harry,

Happy Christmas. Missed you at dinner.

Love from,

Hermione

She went over to her owl, Cerridwen, a gift from her parents for the successful completion of her schooling, and tied the packages to the owl, turning on the pile of discarded parchment and placing it in her trashcan. "Incendio," she whispered, watching as the unsent letters burst into flames, dousing them out as soon as all remnants were gone.

Unfortunately, that was only the first of many Christmases and other special occasions spent waiting for the doorbell to ring. Last year at Christmas, Mrs. Weasley had finally stopped putting out two extra chairs. Hermione hadn't been sure which was worse-the reminder of the two that seemed to have dropped out of their lives, or the absence of any evidence that they were still on the minds of the other people in the room.

"Hermione? Um, ah, would you like to dance with me?"

Hermione looked up, grinning as the voice broke through her thoughts. "I thought you'd never ask. In fact, I was just deciding which hex to use if you didn't," she teased, noticing the deep flush on Ron's face and the uncertainty in his movements. But despite all that, he laughed and took her hand.

"You forget, I have years of Auror training and practice behind me. I think I'm at least a match for the cleverest witch our age," he said, dipping her and then spinning the two around.

Hermione caught her breath. "I didn't know you could dance like this," she breathed.

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Well, there's a lot of things about me you don't know." Hermione raised her eyebrows and he flushed again. "Er. Okay, maybe not. They required us to learn in Auror training. Something about it helping with agility and reflexes."

"Oh," Hermione replied as they danced by Fred and Angelina, who were dancing near George and Katie.

"Our little Ronniekins, all grown up," Fred said, nudging Ron and grinning.

"Shut up Fred," Ron muttered.

"Just think. We saw it coming, didn't we, Fred?" George added over Katie's shoulder, throwing a wink in Ron's direction.

"Shut. Up." Ron said through gritted teeth.

Hermione glanced between the two twins and Ron, raising an eyebrow. Ron merely shook his head. "Ignore them. They're just being obnoxious," he intoned.

"Obnoxious, are we?" Fred teased. "You didn't think that earlier today when you were-"

Ron moved a bit closer to his brother, stomping on his foot.

"Ouch!" Fred exclaimed.

"Sorry mate. Couldn't be helped. You know me-two left feet and all," Ron said. Hermione frowned in confusion as Ron shot Fred what looked to be a warning look.

"Hermione, would you take a walk with me?" Ron said, glancing at her. Hermione noticed that his face was redder than ever, and that he looked even more uncertain than when he had in their seventh year, just before the Yule Ball. Of course, she hadn't realized that that was what had been going on at the time.

And now, she had no idea what was going on here.

"Please?" he whispered.

"Of course, Ron," Hermione agreed, allowing him to lead her away from the party, and into the garden. He stopped as they reached a clearing and turned to face her.

Hermione's face twitched with confusion. "Ron, what's this all about?" she asked as he stared at her, his mouth opening and closing, similar to that of a fish out of water.

"Er, sorry about Fred and George. Don't know when to keep their mouths shut. I had hoped to do it, well-" Ron babbled on. Hermione focused on him, trying to make sense of it all.

"Um." Ron said, interrupting himself, and then reaching into his pocket. He retrieved a small box and then looked at her, his eyes widening. "Oh. Sorry. Er," he said, getting down onto one knee.

Hermione stared, in shock.

"Ron, what-" she began, cutting herself off as he opened the box.

Ron stared at her, seeming to misunderstand her expression, and more nervous than ever. "I, ah, I mean, if you don't want, of course, I'd understand. But I'll be getting a job around here, something more dependable and, er, safe. And I guess I thought… we could make a go of it, yeah?" His face fell as Hermione continued to stay silent. "But, ah, I mean, if you didn't want…"

"You prat, of course she wants to." came a female voice from the side of the clearing. Hermione turned and looked to see Ginny and Harry, both standing a short distance away, both looking in good spirits, matching grins on their face.

She turned back to Ron, finally registering the ring in his hand, and dropped to her knees, throwing herself into a large hug around him.

"Of course I want," she said, laughing as she kissed the side of his neck.

"You do?" Ron squeaked, for a second, sounding just like he had in school.

Hermione laughed and again buried her face into his neck. "Of course I do," she whispered.

"That's decided then," Ginny interjected, beaming at the two as Hermione and Ron got to their feet.

"Congratulations, mate," Harry said, clapping his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Just make sure she understands that you'll still be playing Quidditch on Sundays, eh?"

Hermione smiled at Ron, who broke into a large grin. "As long as you promise you'll be around on Sundays."

"Yeah, I think I can swing that," Harry said with a grin. He glanced at Ginny and then back to his two best friends. "I don't think I'll be living very far from here, actually. So, I'll be around. If you can stand the beating, that is."

"Oh you think so?" Ron shouted, swinging playfully at Harry and laughing as he ducked out of the way.

"I know so," Harry replied, chuckling and darting away, with Ron in hot pursuit.

Hermione exchanged a smile with Ginny as the two walked out of the garden.

Some things never changed. And some things just came full circle.


End file.
